<!DOCTYPE html>
<html>
<head>
<meta charset="UTF-8">
<title>Broken Toys by HiGuy258</title>
<style type="text/css">

body { background-color: #ffffff; }
.CI {
text-align:center;
margin-top:0px;
margin-bottom:0px;
padding:0px;
}
.center   {text-align: center;}
.cover    {text-align: center;}
.full     {width: 100%; }
.quarter  {width: 25%; }
.smcap    {font-variant: small-caps;}
.u        {text-decoration: underline;}
.bold     {font-weight: bold;}
</style>
</head>
<body>
<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/28848357">Broken Toys</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/HiGuy258/pseuds/HiGuy258'>HiGuy258</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Dream SMP Toys AU [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Dream SMP - Fandom, Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Adopted Toby Smith | Tubbo, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Animal Abuse, Animal Death, BAMF Technoblade (Video Blogging RPF), Blood, Blood and Gore, Blood and Injury, Canon-Typical Violence, Clay | Dream is fucked up, Cruel and Unusual Torture, Dark, Decapitation, Dehumanization, Emotional Manipulation, Enderman Hybrid Ranboo (Video Blogging RPF), Eventual Happy Ending, Exiled TommyInnit (Video Blogging RPF), Fake Character Death, Forgetful Ranboo (Video Blogging RPF), Gen, Ghost Wilbur Soot, Gore, He/Him Pronouns for Eret (Video Blogging RPF), Hurt No Comfort, Infantilism in narration, It/it’s pronouns, King Eret (Video Blogging RPF), Lonely TommyInnit (Video Blogging RPF), Manipulation, Mental Disintegration, Mentioned Connor | ConnorEatsPants, Mentioned Jack Manifold, Mentioned Niki | Nihachu, Mentioned Sapnap (Video Blogging RPF), Mind Manipulation, Minor Character Death, Minor Corpse Desecration, Not Canon Compliant, Objectifying Relationships, Original Character(s), Panic Attacks, Parent Phil Watson (Video Blogging RPF), Physical Abuse, Physical Manipulation, Piglin Hybrid Technoblade (Video Blogging RPF), President Toby Smith | Tubbo, Protective Phil Watson (Video Blogging RPF), Psychological Trauma, Retired Dave | Technoblade, Self-Harm, Self-Worth Issues, Suicidal Thoughts, Suicide, Suicide Attempt, Technoblade Hears Voices (Video Blogging RPF), Toby Smith | Tubbo Misses TommyInnit, Toby Smith | Tubbo and TommyInnit are Siblings, Toby Smith | Tubbo-centric, TommyInnit Misses Toby Smith | Tubbo, TommyInnit Needs a Hug (Video Blogging RPF), TommyInnit-centric (Video Blogging RPF), Twins Wilbur Soot &amp; Technoblade, Video Game Mechanics, Villain Clay | Dream (Video Blogging RPF), Vomiting, Wilbur Soot and Technoblade and TommyInnit are Siblings, a little bit, as he always is, but not in the context of nb, but still realistic, but that one is for tommy, by means of intrusive emotions/thoughts, can't just leave the head sitting out; you know?, canon-typical?? ok, discord user came up with that tag so there ya go, does chapter 11 count as brain damage, dream won't cry, ghostbur was rewritten into a suicide, i have cried, i just really feel like i need to tag chapter 11 in its entirety, i re-added those last two tags because it'll be worse in the future, im gonna call it psychological horror, its just filler characters let’s be real, like no water clutches, mental degredation, ok guys i came up with tags for tommy's state of mind, phil found his box, probably, techno cuts just one time but its still there, they want him to kill everyone, very late comfort, was beta read we climb our way out of the depths of hell like jack manifold, you will cry</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-01-19</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-03-31</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-13 04:02:10</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>16</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>73,536</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/28848357</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/HiGuy258/pseuds/HiGuy258</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>TommyInnit has never had a tendency to lose things. At least, that’s how it was before he was exiled from L’Manburg. Just when he starts to give himself hope in his new situation, he is thrust into an infinitely worse fate by the man who got him sent him away in the first place, and Tommy is sent reeling.<br/>The troubled teen is now forced to learn very quickly what it feels like to lose his home, his friends, his free will, his human identity, and his life as he knows it.<br/>Once he has finally run out of things to lose, those closest to him start to feel the effects.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Cara | CaptainPuffy &amp; Eret, Cara | CaptainPuffy &amp; Original Character(s), Clay | Dream &amp; Phil Watson (Video Blogging RPF), Clay | Dream &amp; Ranboo (Video Blogging RPF), Clay | Dream &amp; Toby Smith | Tubbo, Clay | Dream &amp; TommyInnit (Video Blogging RPF), Dream SMP Ensemble &amp; Ranboo, Eret &amp; Toby Smith | Tubbo, Floris | Fundy &amp; Ranboo, Floris | Fundy &amp; Wilbur Soot, No Romantic Relationship(s), Original Character(s) &amp; other Original Character(s), Ranboo &amp; Toby Smith | Tubbo, Ranboo &amp; TommyInnit (Video Blogging RPF), Technoblade &amp; Phil Watson (Video Blogging RPF), Toby Smith | Tubbo &amp; TommyInnit, Toby Smith | Tubbo &amp; Wilbur Soot, Toby Smith | Tubbo &amp; Wilbur Soot &amp; TommyInnit &amp; Phil Watson, Wilbur Soot &amp; Technoblade, Wilbur Soot &amp; Technoblade &amp; TommyInnit &amp; Phil Watson, now for the objectifying relationships, ranboo's just friends with everyone</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Dream SMP Toys AU [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/2154219</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>281</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>740</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Prologue</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Tommy woke with a jolt from a pain on the right side of his face.</p><p>He instantly tried to will himself to sit up in his plain white bed to confront whoever was attacking him, before quickly realizing that he already was upright, and that there was not a soul other than him in his little Logsteadshire tent. When Tommy’s thoughts had gotten a bit more clarity, he noticed a dull tingling in the palm of his right hand. His mind, still clinging to sleep, had finally put all the pieces together.</p><p>Tommy had slapped himself in the face to wake up.</p><p>That could only mean one thing: Dream was starting early today. Tommy groaned loudly at the realization.</p><p>So, as he always did, he slumped back down onto his bed and waited. There was no point in trying to get out of bed himself, he knew what was coming.</p><p>Sure enough, after a few seconds, Tommy suddenly climbed upright and swung his legs over the side, stood up off the bed, and left his tent. As he walked over on the grass path towards the small kitchenette that Ghostbur had built within the the logged-off campsite nestled between a small but prominent hill on the coast and a grove of trees, Tommy took in his surroundings through sleep-deprived eyes. It was a perfectly normal morning in Logsteadshire: the temperature was mild, the birds were singing, and the wind was rhythmically pushing the shoreline and rustling the grass. The sun was barely visible on the horizon, annoying Tommy greatly, since that meant Dream's rude awakening was hours before the bright light entering his tent would allow him to wake up naturally.</p><p>When he turned the corner of the entryway, the first thing he noticed was Dream standing expectantly in the middle of the assorted cobble and gravel pathway, wearing his oh-so-familiar green hoodie, holding his just as familiar pair of softly glowing thin wooden rods in his hand, parallel to the ground.</p><p>"Good morning, Tommy! Why is your face red?" Dream asked politely, lacing faux affection into his words. Tommy wasn't slapped that hard, but the pink shade of his cheek must have been very noticeable, standing out when compared to the rest of the pale skin of his face.</p><p>Tommy could <em> hear </em> the sadistic grin under the mask which completely covered his face. His tone was one he knew all too well, since the very first full day Dream had come to check up on him in exile a little over a week ago.</p><p>"Fuck you," Tommy growled, him and Dream both knowing full well what the reasoning behind his face was.</p><p>Dream tilted his head to one side, his version of a confused expression. "Now Tommy, is that any way to talk to your best friend?" he questioned sweetly.</p><p>"Fuck. You." Tommy repeated. It was louder this time, and with more enunciation on each syllable.</p><p>Dream sighed. "We'll just have to correct that, then." he continued with a stern but patient tone, as he reached into his inventory to put away the sticks, and extracted a playful sock which resembled something a child would fashion in arts class.</p><p>As Tommy noticed Dream start to pull the sock over his right hand, Tommy started to gripe about it. "Come on Dream, not the sock aga-"</p><p>Tommy would not be able to finish his sentence before his tone was instantly replaced with the old upbeat and chipper tone that he actually had the energy to speak with before his exile. Of course he didn't hate the tone, it was a very major player in what made Tommy <em> Tommy</em>, but he hated what it represented here.</p><p>The words began spewing out of Tommy’s mouth. "Sorry, sorry. It was inconsiderate of me to respond to questions of genuine concern with downright hurtful words, especially towards my best and only friend. You have been the only one to show up every day and hang out with me," <em> How long is this gonna go on for? </em> "and I couldn't be more grateful. After all, green is the most welcoming colour, as I have said many times, and every day you make me feel at home here in Logsteadshire. Sorry if I worried you with the redness of my face, I was having trouble staying awake," <em> I'm starting to run out of breath </em> "and since there are unfortunately no carbonated drinks here," <em> Oh you fucking prick </em> "I thought it would be easiest to physically give myself a burst of energy!" Tommy had difficulty reclaiming the air he lost within his lungs with the heavy inhales and exhales after talking nonstop for so long.</p><p>The phrase at the very end of Tommy’s words, only <em> technically </em> his, were given much more enthusiasm than the rest of his long-winded speech.</p><p>When he first started talking, Tommy recognized he was able to move again, so he crossed his arms in frustration while trying to level Dream with the best death stare he could muster in his dishevelled state. If anyone else was present during the standoff, they surely would be taken aback by the stark contrast between his body language and his tone of voice.</p><p>Dream, as always, was unaffected by his attempts at intimidation, and Tommy could, as always, recognize that the grin behind his mask grew wider and wider while Tommy spoke.</p><p>Dream put the sock back in his inventory.</p><p>"Thank you, TommyInnit."</p><p>Tommy let out a defeated sigh. "Yeah."</p><p>The former vice president weakly plucks an empty bowl from his inventory as he lumbers over to Mushroom Henry, filling the bowl with his breakfast and quickly slurping the contents, and starts his day.</p>
<hr/><p>Across the sea, in the formally recognized independent country of L'Manburg, the current president also started his day.</p><p>Tubbo woke up in the white house a few hours after most of the nation did, and when he looked over at the golden wall-mounted clock, he recognized the time as an hour or two before noon. The young head of state knows he should be waking up at a more reasonable hour, having the most important job in the recently rebuilt nation, but without his best friend there by his side to keep his spirits up, Tubbo just didn't see a good reason to wake up any earlier. Like every day for nearly a month, the first thing he does when he wakes up in the morning is to check the small compass-watch on his wrist to verify that it still points in the same direction it did the day before. Tubbo turns his hand over and reads the familiar stitching on the strap at the opposite side with a nostalgic smile filled with regret. <em> Your Tommy</em>, it reads, vigilantly pointing the way but taunting at the seemingly impossibly far distance between the once inseparable teenagers.</p><p>After cracking a few chicken eggs and cooking slices of raw porkchop for breakfast, Tubbo set out to greet the citizens of L'Manburg. No amount of interaction with his good friends could replace his best friend, but it was a start.</p><p>Tubbo would start with Niki. He could talk to her at her bakery, pay for a loaf of bread to finish off breakfast with a few of the emeralds he still had stockpiled after pillaging Technoblade's bunker in preparation for the war that granted him presidency. (It was also the war that utterly destroyed the country in the first place, but he chose to ignore that aspect for the time being.)</p><p>Niki would tell Tubbo about any new recipes she had created to sell at the bakery, or tell him about the rousing success that her and Captain Puffy's flower shop had been, which had been recently constructed comfortably within the borders of the Greater Dream SMP. Tubbo would always find it in himself to suspend his animosity that an original L'Manburg citizen started a business well within the lands of their historical enemy, but he knew that they weren't currently at war with anyone and that Niki's intentions were pure.</p><p>Tubbo's long sought-after peace in L'Manburg was the very entry you would find in the dictionary under "bittersweet". He knew that their peace had come at the price of Tommy's friendship.</p><p>Next on the list was Phil. He was often seen bonding with Ghostbur, since the late president had decided to house his blue sheep, Friend, in his father's house instead of the grungy sewer that he turned into his official living space. They were together that day, talking about the goings-on in the nation, until being interrupted by Tubbo's arrival. Ghostbur immediately slid some blue into Tubbo's hands, which did ease his troubles a bit. Whether it was from the blue itself or Ghostbur's ever-cheery mood, Tubbo didn't know.</p><p>The president chatted with Phil mostly, about his interactions with Ghostbur and Technoblade, as Phil was the only person in the country who knew the location of the pig's retirement home. Nevermind the fact that nobody, especially Tubbo, would feel safe having a conversation with the brutal fighter in the very country he helped destroy.</p><p>But Phil arrived on the Dream SMP with one goal in mind: mend his shattered family. However, when that family included the adopted Tubbo and the man who had granted him massive burn scars for the rest of his life, as well as the two brothers who did nothing to prevent the execution from happening, it was a daunting task.</p><p><em> One step at a time</em>, Phil would constantly repeat to himself.</p><p>Quackity was currently busy with whatever the hell it was that El Rapids did, which the current vice president informed him of the day prior, and Niki had mentioned to Tubbo that Fundy and Ranboo were working the ice cream shop today, which sat adjacent to the flower shop. Tubbo's animosity would be suspended a second time.</p><p>As the solemn president exited downtown L'Manburg, he passed through the historical L'Park. It was an exceptionally silly name for such an important plot of land which housed the fenced-off L'Mantree, newly rebuilt Camarvan, and a pleasant pond with a beautiful blackstone fountain with yellow accents, echoing the great walls of protection built during the birth of L'Manburg as a revolutionary colony. The remainder of the park was a sprawling field, perfect for picnics, and indeed Tubbo had seen everyone from Niki and Puffy sharing sandwiches, to Connor and... someone. Tubbo had only seen the latter "pair" once, and while it appeared that Connor was, in fact, talking to someone, Tubbo certainly hadn't seen anyone sitting beside the onesie'd man. He wasn't about to ask him who he was talking to, Connor was strange enough as is.</p><p>Tubbo felt a very familiar heartache walking through the tunnel through a hill and into the L'Manburg suburbs. The beginning of that part of the nation was marked by Karl's house, Wilbur's hanging wooden ball, all but abandoned, and...</p><p>Tommy's dirt hovel.</p><p>Tubbo spent a few minutes overlooking Tommy's home, where signs with <em> TommyInnit Enterprise </em> written on them had been passionately announcing to the world "This is my home!"</p><p>Tommy's land claims were almost as loud as he was.</p><p>Tubbo remembered trying to hide his laugh when Tommy had told him that he decided to get rid of the smooth stone that his home was made of for months, in favor of a return to the original dirt it consisted of in their first few weeks of living in the SMP.</p><p>It was a happy memory, one he often used to help him avoid remembering the bad ones.</p><p>However, being the president of a nation meant Tubbo didn't have the luxury of spending hours reminiscing about the past. His plan today was to head past the remainder of the residential district, where all the L'Manburg citizens lived that Tubbo didn't know personally, and greet Fundy and Ranboo in their ice cream shop.</p><p>Entering the doors was accompanied by the ringing of a small bell, which caused Ranboo and Fundy to barely look up from what they were doing and wave. There seemed to be a fairly large number of people in the parlor, and the two employees were very busy, with Fundy at the register and Ranboo at the ice cream dispenser. Tubbo knew the dispenser worked in a way similar to a common Snow Golem, but the young president never had the time to ask for specifics.</p><p>Scanning the room, Tubbo saw about 15 people in the shop, none of which he recognized, until his gaze landed on a table in the back of the room, where Quackity, Sapnap, George, and Karl sat. Tubbo let out an exasperated sigh.</p><p>The "important El Rapids business" was apparently eating ice cream.</p><p>Tubbo walked up to the table they were all at, crossing his arms in front of the neighboring city's cabinet members, and loudly cleared his throat. Every member of the table looked up at him one by one, and Quackity's surprised stare quickly turned into a sheepish grin, like he'd just gotten caught with his hand in the cookie jar.</p><p>Quackity quickly announced their leave to the rest of his friends, and they left the shop with the same jingle of the bell above the door, ice cream in tow.</p><p>Fundy and Ranboo were still busy preparing frozen treats and counting money, so Tubbo resigned to only give them a quick greeting with a few pleasantries, and be on his way back to the white house to start filling out whatever tiring paperwork he had in store for him today.</p><p>One of the first things brought up in the conversation was that Dream had entered the eatery earlier, looking for Tubbo.</p><p>Hearing that really made Tubbo's face light up. Dream was the only person who both knew exactly where Tommy was, and had the time to go see him. On top of the fact that Dream had asked to see Tubbo personally?</p><p>This could be a <em> very </em> good day.</p><p>Once Fundy informed Tubbo that Dream said he would be waiting at the white house for him, Tubbo immediately said his quick goodbyes and rushed out the door, running for L'Manburg as fast as his legs could carry him. He even chucked a few ender pearls to take shortcuts.</p><p>Tubbo was absolutely brimming with excitement over the prospect that he even had a slim chance he could see Tommy soon.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Boy, you find one fanart on twitter and suddenly you have to make a story about it, huh?</p><p>Hello! This is my first ever delve into writing fanfiction, so please bare with me. Please let me know in the comments about anything you want to point out, it might help a lot. This first chapter is very ambiguous on purpose, try to figure out what is going on for yourself, and put it down in the comments unless you think it's too spoiler-y. Also use the comments for any clarification on something like the layout of L'Manburg, it's a good bit different than how it looks in-game.</p><p>I don't think I'm ever gonna expect fanart, but if you do, try to post it on twitter under the hashtag #brokentoysfanart. I'm really not on any other social media, so if you don't use twitter and really want me to see it, then leave a comment with a link.</p><p>Don't expect regular updates, I mean it. This is a very loose hobby at this point in time and, unless I can really start to write these things faster, it's a hobby that won't last very long.</p><p>edit: can someone please tell me how to make the chapter say "1/?" this is not a completed work<br/>edit 2: found it</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Puppetry</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Tubbo is overjoyed that he finally gets to visit his best friend.<br/>Tommy doesn't share his sentiment.</p><p>dream finds a fuckin book or something i dunno</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>guys help im running out of ways to describe dream's smile its been two chapters</p><p>guys<br/>please</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <b> <em>Four months ago</em> </b>
</p><p>Dream is ready.</p><p>He’d been spending the past week coming up with ideas on how to get a substantial leg up on the rest of the members of the SMP, ever since he’d been getting increasingly frustrated that his control over everyone had appeared to weaken. Sure, the masked man had successfully claimed the beloved discs of L’Manburg’s second in command, but in doing so he was forced to give them hope of a brighter future, and that was a future Dream would stop at absolutely nothing to quash.</p><p>How dare that indignant little <em> speck </em> of land, with the gall to call themselves an <em> independent nation </em>, encroach on his land. Dream simply could not allow it.</p><p>So, once he’d heard that an election was brewing, he all but ignored it, studying until he could find a solution to permanently end the freedom that everyone was enjoying. Dream decided he would require something ancient, powerful, so obscure that nobody would suspect it, and that meant he would have to travel very far from the SMP to find it.</p><p>On his second day of scouring the local libraries, he found it. An old, worn, leather-bound book which detailed the makings of a vast underground stronghold.</p><p>Ironically, the stronghold had its own library.</p><p>That’s it. That was the key to total control. The book had told stories of a horizontal portal to another dimension, vastly different from a vertical Nether portal. Dream grinned his wicked grin at the thought of what sort untold power he could find in a completely new <em> dimension </em>.</p><p>That settled it. His destination was the ancient stronghold.</p><p>It took Dream <em> another </em> week of searching for other books on how to locate the stronghold in the first place, and eventually he had to start ransacking village librarians’ houses for any clues. Eventually, he found the answer he was looking for. Holding an eye of ender in your outstretched hand would vibrate when pointed in the correct direction between you and the nearest stronghold.</p><p>His searches had constantly been interrupted by the petty squabbles between L’Manburg—now Manburg—and the tiny rebel sanctuary of Pogtopia. Dream would gift Wilbur some of his explosives, Tommy some of his armor, fight in their little feuds, just to drive wedges between his ‘friends’ and make the puny rebellion question whose side Dream was really on.</p><p>But now, he’s ready to leave for the stronghold.</p><p>It’s such a pity that he would have to miss the Manburg Festival. It was no matter to Dream, as he knew there would be chaos regardless of his attendance. Whenever the tyrannical president Schlatt and the unhinged madman Wilbur collided, there was no telling what would happen. Not to mention one of them sought to detonate the entire event.</p><p>While Dream frankly couldn’t give a shit about the festivities themselves, he did regret not being able to watch the nation go up in flames while smelling the sulphur in the air.</p><p>But he has more important things to focus on right now.</p><p>Dream had the necessary supplies packed for the estimated two-day trek to the stronghold. He elected to keep his netherite armor in his ender chest, (while bringing the ender chest) and he carried half a stack of eyes of ender, convincing himself that he needed to overstock on them, on the off chance that they were used for something other than simply locating the structure.</p><p>Sure enough, it did take him two days. Dream was certain he found the right spot when the eye he was grasping vibrated harshly while it was pointed <em> down </em> instead of in front of him. He silently praised his good fortune when he stumbled onto the library within a mere twenty minutes.</p><p>As he strode into the two-storey library with a certain swagger of accomplishment, he spots an old wooden desk with what appeared to be construction plans on it. He walked up to the rickety table.</p><p>After inspecting the crinkled papers for a minute, Dream clenches his fists tightly, as he was sent into a blind rage, the likes of which he hadn’t felt since he first found out that there was a budding revolution in his lands.</p><p>The plans laid out in front of him, while being completely indecipherable, did indeed belong to a portal.</p><p>An <em> unfinished </em> portal.</p><p>“<b>FUCK!!</b>” Dream shouted at no-one and everyone, smashing his gloved fist on the nearest stone brick wall, slightly crumbling at the impact.</p><p>“<b>I was so close! Weeks of research for fucking </b> <b> <em>NOTHING!!</em> </b>” he screamed again, anger steadily building at the thought that his preparation might have truly been for nothing.</p><p>Dream took the full sixty seconds to regain his composure. He was still fucking <em> livid </em>, but he knew that screaming at nothing would get him nowhere fast, and he vehemently refused to leave the stronghold empty-handed.</p><p>So, to calm himself, he began browsing the plethora of books around him, hoping for some sort of information or tool that he could use to his benefit, and his alone. He decided to look over the assortment of softly glowing enchanted books first, glancing at the glyphs on their spines, not necessarily translating them, since he could recognize virtually any enchantment anyway.</p><p><em> Power IV, Sharpness V, Blast Protection III, oh, Frost Walker III? </em> That one could be useful, he doesn’t have many boots with that, as he preferred depth strider.</p><p>Dream continued scanning the spines until he spotted one that caused him to do a double-take. It wasn’t an enchantment he easily recognized like all the others. Taking a brief few seconds to easily translate the ancient language, he read:</p><p>
  <em> Puppetry III. </em>
</p><p>Dream scoffed. It didn’t impress him in the slightest. Sure, puppetry was quite a rare enchantment, but that was only because of how utterly <em> useless </em> it was. He had only heard of the enchantment maybe once or twice, since it was primarily used by street performers, who weren’t in the business of revealing their secrets behind their craft.</p><p>Dream already knew that the enchantment worked by applying it to such a trivial item as a stick, and linking those sticks to a cloth or wooden doll. It would allow the user to move the puppet by simply holding the sticks and thinking about how the puppet should move. It was a neat parlor trick, but in Dream’s case, not very practical.</p><p>Reminding himself of the enchantment had led him to start musing to himself with a small, audible chuckle. <em> Now that I think about it, I guess I could consider myself the so-called puppeteer of the SMP, my own actions bending those of... </em></p><p>A thoughtful pause.</p><p>
  <em> Now hold on. </em>
</p><p>Dream’s face slowly contorted into a sadistic, toothy grin that threatened to rip his cheeks in two.</p><p>
  <em> That just might work. </em>
</p><p>He swiped the book and swiftly exited the stronghold.</p><hr/><p>
  <b> <em>Now</em> </b>
</p><p>Tubbo was well out of breath by the time he had pearled onto the announcement podium in L’Manburg. The budding president of just under two months could spot Dream’s trademark green hoodie against the dark spruce logs that the country was known for from a mile away. The masked man wore no armor, of course, but Tubbo was pleased to see it nonetheless. Since Dream had officially recognized their independence, following their laws was the least he could do.</p><p>However, Tubbo knew that he still needed to be presentable. When he teleports onto the podium, he takes a minute to catch his breath and compose himself before he walks over to the hill that held the white house on top of it. As he walks over to greet his company, Tubbo straightens his tie, adjusts his coat, dusts his trousers, and wears the best ‘president face’ he can muster.</p><p>“Hello Dream, would you like to come in?” Tubbo cordially gestures towards the white house door. It took every muscle in his body to quell his lingering excitement and prevent immediately blurting about Tommy.</p><p>“I would, thank you Tubbo.” Dream replied.</p><p>“So, what do I owe the pleasure to for you wanted to talk to me?” Tubbo horribly stumbles through his entire sentence. <em>Please say Tommy.</em> <em>Please say Tommy.</em> <em>Please say Tommy.</em></p><p>Dream smiles a small smile under his mask. After everything that the president went through, he was still just a teenager.</p><p>“Well, I actually wanted to talk about Tommy-”</p><p>The dam holding Tubbo back just fucking shatters. The presidential facade he had barely held up until now evaporating instantly.</p><p>He whips his whole body around to face Dream with wide, excited eyes and an anticipatory smile beamed out of his face. “Really? How is he?! Can I go see him? Please tell me I can go see him!” Tubbo frantically blurts out, holding back very little.</p><p>Dream smiles a second time at the onslaught of words, wider and more evil than last time. Honestly, they made it too easy for him.</p><p>Dream steps back a tiny bit, letting Tubbo think he didn’t expect this reaction in the first place. “Whoa, whoa, slow down there Tubbo!” Tubbo does calm down a bit. “Yes, I am here to discuss plans for you to visit Tommy,” Dream continues methodically.</p><p>Tubbo’s face lit up once again, but he remained silent. He <em> needed </em> to be patient, or else Dream might take this all back. Tubbo already messed up once when Dream merely mentioned his best friend’s name, and he simply couldn’t risk missing out on an opportunity like this.</p><p>Dream continues with caution. “<em> but </em>... you should know that he does not share the same enthusiasm as you do.”</p><p>Tubbo faltered slightly. <em> What? What does he mean by that? Tommy doesn’t hate me, right? </em> He quickly finds the hope inside himself again. <em> No, keep it together. I just need to talk to him, face-to-face, and we can work things out. He’ll see how much I regret... what I did. </em></p><p>Dream seems to read his thoughts. “Ever since Tommy was, ah, sent away,” Tubbo cringes a bit. “he’s been rather lonely. I’ve been trying to convince him to allow a visit from you, y'know, to reconnect." Dream lightly punches his fists against each other. "Of course, he was quite upset with you, but today he finally accepted.”</p><p>Tubbo would’ve been happier to hear that any other day, but right now, his worst fears were confirmed. He reminded himself not to worry. Surely with enough time, Tommy will come around. He always does! They’re still best friends, right?</p><p>... right?</p><p>Tubbo takes a moment to compose and calm himself again. He silently curses to himself when he realizes he doesn’t have any unused blue left on him.</p><p>Inhale. Exhale. “Thank you very much, Dream. I’ll be looking forward to it. Have you decided on a day yet?” Tubbo asks steadily.</p><p>Dream tilted his head, Tubbo guessed it was in thought. “Well, how about tomorrow?” the taller man presents after a few seconds.</p><p>Tubbo’s eyes widen and brows raise with newfound excitement, and he begins to blurt out again. “Yes! I-I mean... I would like that. Very much.” he reclaimed his steady voice at the end.</p><p>Dream finds a cheery tone to use in response, clapping his hands together once. “Great! I’ll head right over to Logsteadshire and tell Tommy the good news, then. Later, Tubbo, it was nice speaking to you!” he caps the conversation off with a goodbye as he starts to walk away.</p><p>“You too Dream, bye!” Tubbo calls back with a small wave.</p><p>The teenager quickly rushes back into the white house. He’ll have to do extra paperwork today if he wants all the time he can have tomorrow, but it’s worth it.</p><p>Tommy is worth it.</p><hr/><p>“... really?” Tommy says after processing Dream’s information. He sounds more apprehensive than anything, but his voice holds a small piece of hope, deep down.</p><p>“Yeah! Tubbo told me he finally found the time to come visit you. Said it was something about there being less paperwork recently?” Dream lied through his teeth (well, through his mask, really) like a seasoned con artist.</p><p>Tommy gazes down to the ground, slightly dejected at that. “Figures,” he mutters.</p><p>Dream bends down slightly so he can look Tommy in his eyes, and so Tommy can look in the black dots of the porcelain mask.</p><p>Dream cooes at the teen. “Aww, cheer up Tommy! I’m sure that somewhere in Tubbo’s heart, he still loves you and desperately wants to see you, he just hasn’t had the time recently.” his tone shifted to reassuring somewhere along the way.</p><p>“Yeah... yeah, you’re right. Thanks, Dream.” Tommy’s voice picks up a certain sad confidence from Dream’s words.</p><p>He rests a hand softly on Tommy’s shoulder. “No problem Tommy. We are friends, after all. I’m just doing what’s best for you.” Dream uses a soft tone to ease Tommy’s worries. It doesn’t work. That isn’t to say it was supposed to, he just wanted to rile up the helpless kid for a moment before going in for the kill.</p><p>The words alone shift Tommy’s mood from a somber acceptance to angry, the hatred filling his dull blue eyes. He’d done the whole ‘we’re friends’ shit many times before, but it never ceased to piss him off. He shuffles his shoulder away from Dream’s grip. <em> How </em> dare <em> he fucking say that the shit he’s made me do is ‘for my own good’! </em></p><p>Dream grins sharply, teeth on display for no-one but himself. They were making it too easy for him. Again.</p><p>Before Tommy can open his mouth to curse him out, Dream suddenly turns around and starts walking away, shoulders up in a shrug.</p><p>He goes in for the aforementioned kill.</p><p>“Of course, you’ll need to be on your best behavior. Wouldn’t want anything <em> bad </em> to happen to Tubbo, now do we?” Now it’s Dream’s turn to be filled with joy at hearing his own snide question.</p><p>Hearing that makes Tommy recoil slightly before... he sees them.</p><p>
  <span>Every muscle in his body freezes on the spot.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Those familiar glowing sticks, </span>
  <em>
    <span>his</span>
  </em>
  <span> sticks, are ever so slightly peeking out from Dream’s hoodie pocket.</span>
</p><p>Tommy’s eyes widen in shock and horror, his jaw slacks open, and any trace amount of color in his face is completely washed away. Every single emotion he once had is replaced with a primal sense of <em> dread </em>sweeping over him.</p><p>
  <em> No... </em>
</p><p>
  <em> No. No, no, nononono. </em>
</p><p>“<em> No... </em>” Tommy whispers, barely audible.</p><p>Tommy keeps repeating his objections, shouting in a panicked frenzy. He rushes over to Dream, hoping to beg with a desperate plea for mercy. On his way, Tommy trips on the uneven dirt, and falls right behind Dream’s legs, and clings to them tightly.</p><p>“N-No, Dream, <em>PLEASE!</em> <em>Please</em> let me talk to Tubbo tomorrow, please! I-I’ll do anything, Dream, just- let <em>me</em> speak to him! <em>PLEASE!</em>” Tommy pleads violently, whole body shaking just as strongly, looking up at Dream through blurry vision.</p><p>Dream turns around slowly, careful not to step on the boy. He wouldn’t want to accidentally break Tommy.</p><p>Dream bends down onto his knees and turns Tommy’s head to face his mask with a gentle grasp of his right cheek. He leans into the touch just a tiny bit, but his pleading face doesn’t falter.</p><p>“I’m afraid that’s not your decision to make, Tommy.” Dream states matter-of-factly.</p><p>Tommy’s eyes widen and jaw opens again upon hearing the words. He goes silent, losing the strength to continue begging on his knees.</p><p>Dream stands up and walks away.</p><p>Tommy falls onto the grass, tucks his knees into himself, and sobs loudly. His body shakes after every wet breath he takes.</p><p>Getting a visit from his best friend could very well be the worst day of Tommy's life.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>"well, i'm something of a sadist myself."<br/>~dream probably</p><p>I wrote the ending while eating sweet-tarts :)<br/>(I refuse to call them SweeTarts, that name is an abomination)</p><p>Dream's pov turned out to be extremely flowery, so I just decided that's his personality now.</p><p>I will probably be taking tomorrow off, I want to catch up on the SMP streams. I'm honestly pretty paranoid that with how little Tommy's been streaming the smp recently , how he's going on about his 'endgame', and that's he's literally fighting dream 2v1, the outcome is that he just straight up dies and leaves the server forever. Hopefully he only gets sent to the prison. I've heard that he actually foreshadowed that, but they also foreshadowed the whole 'tubbo is schlatt' and 'tommy is wilbur' thing and look where that went.</p><p>As always, comments are greatly appreciated! Chapter 3 is going to be the visit itself, and it's going to have a very large amount of angst and you are not going to like it. Enjoy!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Ventriloquism</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Tubbo and the terrible, horrible, no good, very bad visit.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>I edited the previous chapter a teeny bit! The moment when Tommy sees the sticks poking out of Dream's hoodie pocket is slightly more elaborated on.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Tubbo is not ready.</p><p>Well, he’s <em> ready </em>. Just, not really. Tubbo could never be truly ready for a month overdue visit with Tommy in exile.</p><p>The young leader’s head is racing with worry as he takes out his communicator to message Dream. <em> What should I say to Tommy? </em> Dream had messaged Tubbo the other day, saying that he needed forward notice of at least half an hour ahead of time, to get everything ready. <em> What is Tommy gonna say? Will he still be mad? </em> Tubbo has all the stuff he thinks he could need: a bit of food, bottled water and golden boots for the Nether, a bow and arrows to defend himself from any hostile mobs, his compass-watch, (which he had checked at least seven times in the last hour) and a gift for Tommy.</p><p>Tubbo’s gift was a jukebox. <em> The </em> jukebox, in fact. The very same jukebox that had sat in front of their bench for at least eight months, ever since both Tommy and Tubbo had fought to reclaim Tommy’s discs.</p><p>The discs that Tubbo had said don’t...</p><p>No. No, he refuses to think about that time, atop the obsidian walls. He has to stay optimistic! He was on his way to finally speak to Tommy again! It would be for the first time since... the walls. His thoughts start racing again. <em> Oh god, Tommy must hate me. I’m the reason he can’t come back, of course he hates me! </em></p><p>Tubbo violently shakes the intrusive thoughts out of his head. <em> No, no. I have to stay positive. This is as much a visit for Tommy as it is for me. </em> He knew that for a fact. Tubbo was sure that if a big part of himself missed Tommy, then at least a small part of Tommy missed Tubbo right back.</p><p>After about fifteen more minutes of gathering his courage and hyping himself up, he finally takes off towards the Dream SMP and the community Nether portal.</p><p>—o—</p><p>Tubbo had walked past a number of his friends on his way to the portal: Ranboo and Fundy, Niki and Puffy, and Phil. However, when they asked Tubbo where he was going, he lied to each one of them and said he was visiting Sam. His opportunity to visit Tommy was a very personal one, and if he had told them the truth, they might want to come too. Tubbo preferred they just not worry about him until he got back. Then he would start telling people, then other people could possibly visit Tommy as well. Tubbo’s lie was perfectly good, at any rate. Sam’s home was so far away that you were almost forced to go through the Nether to make the distance in any reasonable time, and they had grown rather close as friends, having taken on a handful of redstone projects away from the SMP together, before Tubbo had his free time severely limited by his new responsibilities.</p><p>The directions Dream gave him to Logsteadshire were very unusual as well, but now he really understood why. Cut through the mined-out basalt delta, cross a thin cobblestone bridge or two, and climb up a precarious netherrack staircase, among other things. There was no unified bridge of cobblestone that Tubbo knew Tommy was so well known for, no obvious path for him to follow. Had Dream not given him specific instructions, Tubbo would likely not notice that the Nether was at all different.</p><p>Tommy must have <em> really </em> not wanted anyone to visit him.</p><p>That certainly doesn’t bode well for Tubbo. But it doesn’t matter. He’s here now, standing in front of what he can only assume is the portal to Logsteadshire, and he’s going to visit his best friend. If he could just swallow his pride and actually step through the portal, that is.</p><p>After a few more seconds, Tubbo clamps his eyes shut and steps through. Once he stops hearing the familiar <em> whoosh </em> of a portal, he pries them back open to finally take in the location around him that he’s only ever heard vaguely described by Dream.</p><p>The first thing Tubbo notices is that the portal sends him directly onto a path of packed grass, which only continues right or left. On his left, he sees a small but homely-looking enclosure of tall, barkless logs of varying heights and colors. Tubbo recognizes the semi-random pattern as a mixture of oak and birch fairly easily. There’s a medium-sized entryway to the camp, with a sign mounted adjacent to it that proudly proclaims ‘Logsteadshire’. He’s in the right location, at the very least. From the fairly elevated vantage point of the portal, the final thing Tubbo can see in the logged area is the top of a very small, mostly blue building. It’s not big enough to be a full-size house, but it has smoke billowing out of a chimney, so it must at least be used for cooking.</p><p>There are much less landmarks on Tubbo’s right then there are on his left. All he can see looking to his right are a mid-size white tent and a campfire, about twenty feet away, surrounded by two more logs for sitting on. The tent has a sign hanging down from the wooden support pole, but it can’t be read from the angle he’s standing at. Tubbo dismisses the log area, since he knows that, if Tommy was in fact living inside its walls, there wouldn’t be a tent all the way out here.</p><p>Tubbo audibly gasps in wonder when he turns and notices the environment that surrounds the living area.</p><p>Taking in the rest of the land and the sea behind him, he recognizes that this is where Logsteadshire truly shines. The location sits on the edge of a relatively small plains biome with forests almost completely surrounding it, and in the middle of the plains is a small lake, with what looks like a village lying behind the lake. The only part of the plains that isn’t surrounded by trees is the beach.</p><p>Oh, the beach is definitely the best part. Tubbo had saved the best for last.</p><p>The soft sandy beach, being pushed in and out by the tides, looks absolutely pristine. The water itself was gorgeous as well, where the sun’s rays reflected off of its surface perfectly. The crystal clear seawater was tucked away in a little bay, surrounded on almost all sides by similar sandy beaches, and Tubbo noticed that the land and sea of Logsteadshire mimicked each other remarkably.</p><p>He can only imagine that living in such an area, wholly untouched by civilization, would feel like a constant hug from all sides, Tubbo would absolutely love to settle down in a place just like this when everything is said and done.</p><p>The sound of someone loudly clearing their throat snaps the president out of his fantasies.</p><p>When Tubbo turns to look at Tommy, arms crossed, staring right at him, he feels as if he’s been forcefully dragged back down to earth.</p><p>Tommy does <em> not </em> look like he’d been living in a hug.</p><p>The boy stood across from Tubbo barely even resembles his best friend. His beige pants had turned into shorts, both legs being horribly ripped and shredded beyond belief, just below the knees. Tommy’s shoes are both missing their laces and littered with holes, they’re absolutely caked with mud and sand, and the soles are almost completely detached from the cloth above them. His socks become bandages as they travel up his shins, and Tubbo notices that his arms and hands are also covered in similar bandages. Clearly, he had so many cuts and scrapes that he had abandoned localized bandages in favor of just covering his extremities completely.</p><p>Tommy’s t-shirt—his iconic, red-sleeved t-shirt, recognizable from a mile away—was turned dark by dirt and- blood, in some places. The once bright red of his shoulders was now mostly maroon, and his left shoulder sleeve had a nasty rip in it. In fact, there were rips all over his shirt, from the hems of the torso and sleeves, to hairline rips across his front, and a few very large tears. Tubbo assumed the back of his shirt took on a similar resemblance.</p><p>Tommy’s once bright blonde hair, golden almost, that Tubbo had come to love, had turned a very literal shade of dirty blonde. It’s definitely overgrown, having to be pushed away repeatedly and threatening to partially cover his eyes. Yet darker portions of his hair appeared to be somewhat matted to his head with sweat and what was probably blood, but Tubbo couldn’t tell.</p><p>Tommy’s eyes, usually a striking shade of aqua, were- wait, no, Tubbo couldn’t see his eyes. They were completely covered by clean white bandages, along with his eyebrows. Actually, the bandages looked brand new, like they were put on very recently. Not at all discolored like the ones on his arms and legs. <em> Wait, if he can't see, then how did he know I was- </em></p><p>Hearing Tommy’s voice for the first time in nearly a month instantly snaps Tubbo out of his absent thoughts for the second time in as many minutes.</p><p>“Welcome, <em> Mr. President.</em>” It isn’t a welcome tone. Tommy spits the title out of his frowning mouth with disdain.</p><p>“Ah, h-hey, Tommy,” Tubbo responds. He’s filled to the brim with nervousness, desperately trying not to raise his voice or do anything even slightly aggressive, so as to not make Tommy get defensive and stop speaking to him entirely.</p><p>Tubbo continues when Tommy doesn’t greet him back. “W-what’s with the, uh, the bandages? Over your eyes?” he asks, tumbling over his words.</p><p>“Eye infection. Dream took care of it.” Tommy answers in a cold, mostly monotone voice.</p><p>“Oh, that’s, good. That’s good.” Tubbo takes a step forward, hoping that they can just keep <em> talking</em>-</p><p>“Tubbo, what the hell do you want. Or do you go by <em> sir </em> now?” Tommy asks with venom in his voice, mocking the young president’s title a second time.</p><p>Hearing that immediately stops Tubbo’s advance. He puts on the most apologetic face he can, even if Tommy can’t actually see it.</p><p>He stammers harshly to join his recoiling. “I-I just want to, to talk to you, Tommy. Maybe, apologize? Try to make up for the, uh, th-things I did? I even brought you a gift-” Tubbo starts nervously parsing through his inventory, but gets cut off when Tommy snaps back at him.</p><p>“<em><strong>Stop.</strong></em>” he commands, raising one hand palm up, and Tubbo freezes with a face full of fright. “I don’t want your <em> fucking </em> pity shit. You said you want to talk? Make up? Be <em> buddies </em> again? Fine. Let’s talk.” Tommy pushes the last words through clenched teeth, and sounds like the only thing he knows is anger, a far cry from the playful annoyance his tone usually carries.</p><p>Tubbo nods once. <em> Wait, he can’t- </em>“O-okay.” he replies, sounding much more scared than he would like to admit. Tommy was starting to genuinely frighten him.</p><p>He reasons that it’s only fair for him to be so scared now. Tubbo almost deserved it, considering how scared Tommy looked at... the walls.</p><p>Tubbo sits on one of the logs around the extinguished campfire. As he walks past the white tent that Tommy was standing in front of, he glances up at the sign from earlier. </p><p>
  <em> Tnret </em>
</p><p>Tubbo smiles wide at it, filled with sudden nostalgia. It looks like something his dyslexic brain would come up with.</p><p>No time for that now. Tubbo came here to apologize to Tommy, and by god he’s going to apologize to Tommy.</p><p>Tubbo makes space for Tommy on his log right next to him, but he sits on the other log, opposite from Tubbo.</p><p>He wants nothing more than to rush over to his best friend, and just tackle him into a bear hug, sobbing and begging forgiveness for his actions.</p><p>But Tubbo knows he can’t. Not yet, at least. They haven’t even seen each other in so long, and he has to ease Tommy slowly into affection. Unfortunately, from what he’s said and how he’s reacted since Tubbo arrived, it’s proving to be much more difficult than he’d hoped.</p><p>Tubbo forcefully swallows the urge and lets the words flow, along with the tears that have been welling up in his eyes since he entered Logsteadshire. The nerves he once had left his body in favor of a pure desperation, fueled by guilt and sadness.</p><p>It’s Tubbo’s turn to shout now. “<b><em>Tommy, I’m sorry!!</em> </b> <em> I never should’ve exiled you, </em> I should have- I should’ve <em> worked with you </em> and came up with a <em> better solution! </em> It was the <em> biggest </em> mistake of my <b> <em>fucking</em> </b> <em> life, </em> Tommy! I just want to <em> take it all back</em>, to go back to how things were before all this <em> shit </em> happened! <em> Please! Please, Tommy, forgive me!! You’re my- </em> my- my best friend, Tommy. I-I’m nothing without you.” Tubbo puts his whole heart on the line in a last-ditch effort to convince Tommy of just how much fucking <em> guilt </em> he has inside of him.</p><p>Tommy had barely flinched.</p><p>“... Sorry?” Tubbo looked up at Tommy, briefly pausing his sobs. “You exile me? Leave me to <em> die</em>, in the middle of <b> <em>goddamn nowhere! </em> </b> And all you can say is <em> fucking sorry?! </em>” Tommy is standing now, his whole body spelling aggression and anger. His hands are gesturing wildly, and his voice is <em> roaring</em>.</p><p>Tubbo is paralyzed with a primal sense of <em> fear </em> when he hears that. <em> No. No, no I just poured my entire heart out to Tommy and it </em> still <em> wasn’t enough to- </em></p><p>“<b><em>I am not your fucking FRIEND anymore, Tubbo!! </em> </b> <em> The discs were better friends to me than you </em> <b> <em>ever were.</em></b>” Tommy growls with a fiery conviction in his voice. He <em> meant </em> what he said.</p><p>Tubbo had put his heart on the table, and Tommy held a sledgehammer.</p><p>His entire being shatters, and he can’t stop himself from running over to Tommy with his arms open for just <em> one last chance to hold him- </em></p><p>Tubbo also can’t stop himself from falling onto the grass from a very strong punch across his face.</p><p>The reality of what happened hits him like <em> another </em> punch to the face. Tommy had just full-force <em> punched </em> Tubbo... for trying to <em> hug him. </em></p><p>“<b><em>LEAVE!!! </em></b>” Tubbo thinks Tommy’s screaming is the loudest thing he’s ever heard.</p><p>Tubbo is <em> really </em> fearing for his life now.</p><p>“<b><em>Did you not fucking HEAR ME?! I said LEAVE!! Get OUT OF HERE!! I NEVER WANT TO SEE YOU AGAIN!! </em></b>”</p><p>Tommy’s screaming gets quieter as he talks, because Tubbo is fucking <em> sprinting </em> for the portal. Red-hot tears are flowing out of his eyes like faucets and streaming across his face like lava. <b> <em>I have to get out of here Tommy is going to </em> </b> <b>fucking</b> <b> <em> KILL ME!!</em> </b></p><p>If Tubbo was a second slower, he would’ve seen Tommy’s body suddenly crumple and splay out on the grass. If Tubbo was three seconds slower, he would’ve seen Dream’s invisibility potion wear off. If Tubbo was six seconds slower, he would’ve seen Dream crouch down over Tommy, rest a hand on his shoulder, and say “Nicely done, Tommy.”</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>how we doin clingytwt</p><p>as for me, im running out of sweet-tarts :'(</p><p> </p><p>Alright! That's all I got for witty remarks today. This chapter was pretty painful for me to write :crying emoji: , even though my beta said it came out wonderfully (thank you)</p><p>SO HOW ABOUT THAT FUCKING SEASON TWO FINALE HUH?? it was SO hype i was physically freaking out, something I only ever truly did back at the season one finale. Any reservations I had about the canon of the story, from completely abandoned sub-plots, to wonderfully acted arcs just not really changing much at all in how that character acts afterwards, are basically gone. that 100 minutes was fucking incredible and i loved every second. cried like three separate times too, which doesn't usually happen when im watching a stream. reading fics after the fact, i'll be bawling my eyes out, but during streams its somewhat rare.</p><p>what does the finale mean for this fic? first off, you can bet your ass that his 'precious items vault' is canon to this story. it'll definitely pop up some time, but i don't know when yet. !!!!! I will also be writing a oneshot (or like, two-to-three shot) based on the stream as a whole !!!!! unfortunately, this fic is not developed enough yet to support what i have in mind, so you will have to wait for around five chapters before the oneshot can work its magic.</p><p>As always, kudos, touchés, hits, slaps, comments, whatever, is always appreciated! (i don't know how ao3 works lol) I am currently dreading having to write the Tommy POV for this scene, as it is essentially an out-of-body experience, and I have no clue what that's like, let alone how to write it. On the other hand, I didn't really think I knew how to write this much angst before coming down this rabbit hole, so who knows?</p><p>Next chapter is back to Dream's POV (always fun), continuing the enchantment stuff from chapter two.</p><p>edit: Oh also, for this chapter, I really stuck to the idea of one single POV, and not the weird hybrid POV I've been doing before now. Sure, that was easier to write, but I really think this is more satisfying to read.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Practice Makes Perfect</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Most people would never even consider taking the time to practice having mental control over another person's every movement. For Dream, it's like learning to ride a bike.</p><p>**disclaimer: there are no bikes in minecraft**</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>I have retconned the very first scene of this fic to take place 'a little over a week' instead of just under a month since Tommy's exile. His rebellious mood and Dream's long-winded sock speech fit the earlier stages of exile much better than the later stages. Tubbo's perspective is still the same, however. Go back and see if you can spot the miniscule differences I made! It's like a new game! *goes back to spinning the clock in the item frame*</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>By the time Dream had returned to his base (which he stoically refused to call a home, a term which brought upon too many attachments, which in turn would only stifle his future plans) from his travels to the underground stronghold, he was positively itching to try out his new enchanted book.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Now, Dream had acquired a great many skills over the many months in his ongoing quest for total control; Things like sword fighting, archery, craftsmanship, stealth, and even a few niche practices like acting and forgery. He simply did not think it worth his time and effort to learn how to use his mind to directly control people like </span>
  <em>
    <span>things</span>
  </em>
  <span>. He would need practice, and lots of it. Fortunately, with the Greater Dream SMP faction currently on the sidelines, away from the ongoing feuds between Manburg and Pogtopia, Dream had a plethora of time available for him to do just that.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He grinned under his mask at the prospect of how much </span>
  <em>
    <span>fun</span>
  </em>
  <span> it could be.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Before he could practice, he would first need to experiment with the enchantment itself. Assuming nobody would go to such lengths as trying to control flesh and blood with magic designed for cloth and wood, he hadn’t bothered to research anything like that. Dream, however, knew that his knowledge on this magic in particular was thin, so he chose to read the basics of the enchanting process. Thankfully, he has a book entirely dedicated to uncommon magical enchants, and he quickly flips to the page concerning Puppetry.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Set down the object,</span>
  </em>
  <span>—</span>
  <span>Dream chuckles at the word</span>
  <span>—</span>
  <em>
    <span>and hold your cross-sticks above it horizontally. Then, with your glyph-book on the proper enchantment table, recite the passage from the book in the tongue of the ancient language it was written in. If the instructions are followed correctly, your cross-sticks will hum with energy and begin to glow a soft but distinct shade of purple.</span>
  </em>
  <span> The process was simple enough. He already knew how to speak the tongue it described, and the mechanics were fairly basic.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thumbing along the page, a separate paragraph catches Dream’s attention. </span>
  <em>
    <span>It is possible, however difficult and often unnecessary, to enchant a secondary item as a controller for a similar effect. The only requirements are that it bears a resemblance to the puppet you wish to control, and that the secondary item itself is related to puppeteering in some way. The type of item will dictate what type of function it will possess.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>That proved itself to be a very interesting development. He had no idea anything like that was possible, but he will not hesitate to exploit it to its fullest extent.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dream sits, brainstorming ideas for a so-called secondary item, writing it all out on spare paper. He needs to control the limb functions, which the sticks already took care of, but what else? </span>
  <em>
    <span>The movement of extremities, like fingers or toes, perhaps?</span>
  </em>
  <span> No, he assumes he could do that with the sticks, given enough practice. It would have to be something that limited information, and something on the head, like eyes, or ears, or...</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>The mouth.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Voice, speech. Vocal cords. Dream could control what people </span>
  <em>
    <span>said!</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>He could use a common sock puppet.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dream plasters a striking, evil grin onto his face. He knows precisely whose likeness to use for the sock. Dashing to his storage chests, he pulled out a white sock, a small, fluffed clump of yellow wool, and a handful of bright red dye. Positioning the sock on his hand properly, he carefully sews the wool onto the sock’s ‘head,’ where Dream’s knuckles were, and applies the red dye to both sides of the sock, just above his wrist, creating twin red accents on the white sock. Finished, Dream turns his hand around to face him, and he sees the face of TommyInnit staring back.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dream was practically </span>
  <em>
    <span>giddy</span>
  </em>
  <span> with excitement, the feeling translating into a wild, crazed look on his face.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>This was going better than he could have ever hoped.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>With that finished, Dream strode back to his enchanting room and began copying the glowing book’s ancient text into four plain books, placing each of them on the diamond-encrusted obsidian table, imbuing each with the magic energy gained from hundreds of felled mobs. He opted not to use the original worn book that he found in the stronghold, delicately placing it, along with the sock he made earlier, in the most secretive and protected chest in the whole base.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>All he needs now is a test subject. Dream had already decided on a wolf while trekking back from the stronghold. He grabbed a number of bones from a chest and headed for the exit. Luckily, his base was only minutes away from a spruce forest, so he would be able to find a wolf in no time.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dream smiled as he brought the wolf back to his base and commanded it to sit. Given a few bones, the hunting animals were naturally very obedient, unlike the little </span>
  <em>
    <span>children</span>
  </em>
  <span> he had to deal with on a daily basis, who were disobedient and chaotic to a fucking fault. He felt rage welling up inside him at the mere recognition of their continued existence.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dream willed himself to relax. </span>
  <em>
    <span>No matter, </span>
  </em>
  <span>that</span>
  <em>
    <span> trait will become all but a distant memory soon enough.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Glancing at the tamed wolf broke him from his thoughts. Right, Dream still has work to do. With the wolf now in the enchantment room, he fashions eight sticks out of wooden planks and crosses them, keeping them together in four pairs of two with a bit of string.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dream holds the sticks above the wolf’s general position, and reads from the glowing book on the enchanting table. The sticks begin to hum as the glow slowly transfers from the book to the sticks, energizing it with magical potential. He stands up, holds the sticks in his hand, and tries to will the dog to move on his mental command.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Nothing interesting happens.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>In fairness, this is wholly untested magic. Dream never </span>
  <em>
    <span>really</span>
  </em>
  <span> expected it to work the first time, and that’s why he made backup books. So he tries again, this time focusing his thoughts more on the simple command ‘stand’ and tilting the sticks to get any sort of movement.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Nothing interesting happens.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Well, damn</span>
  </em>
  <span>. Dream is getting irritated now.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dream reasons that he must not have held the sticks properly while performing the enchant. Since a puppet was much smaller than a wolf, just holding them above one would cover the entire doll, causing the specific area to be irrelevant. He supposes he just needs to hold the sticks above a much more localized area.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But which area? He considered the legs, but there were four of them and only one set of wooden sticks, it would just be impractical. Dream settled for the head, since it contained the brain, the organ responsible for all motor function. He set the old, dysfunctional sticks aside for the moment and turned his attention to the next pair. Once again he read, they hummed, and then they glowed. Like the attempt prior, Dream hones in on the ‘stand’ command in his mind, focused, and tilts the sticks in his hand.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Nothing interesting happens.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dream was rightfully angry now. On top of that, he was also getting worried that the magic in this enchantment simply didn’t work how he was trying to use it. Three tries and two books had provided zero results, with not so much as a nudge from the bored wolf.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He simply couldn’t give up now. He’d poured so much time into this project, and he was going to exhaust every possibility before he gave up on it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dream just needed to come up with a different area of the wolf to enchant. He thought for a moment when it hit him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The heart.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sure, it was a much more symbolic origin of the body than the brain was, but it was absolutely worth a try. He didn’t really see another option. So, discarding the sticks a second time, he held the third pair of sticks level above the animal’s heart. Read, hum, glow.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He puts all his willpower into his thoughts, saying it aloud as well.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Stand.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The wolf stood up. He almost audibly gasped, but the feeling quickly morphs to elation. </span>
  <em>
    <span>It worked!</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Not too hasty. He still needs to make sure it wasn’t just a coincidence or anything, the wolf had been getting pretty restless.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Sit.</span>
  </em>
  <span> The wolf sat.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Stand. </span>
  </em>
  <span>It stood. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Sit.</span>
  </em>
  <span> It sat.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dream starts celebrating in the confines of the bookcase-filled room. For the first time in a long time, the smile he bore was not one of wickedness and insanity, but of pride and accomplishment. He’d done it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He just needs one last experiment. Discarding the third pair of sticks, he picks up another sock, and crudely models it after a canine, with cloth ears and black dye for a nose. It wasn’t pretty, but it would get the job done. He performs the enchant a final time on his last pair of sticks, but now he included the sock.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Once it was complete, Dream set down the sticks, only focusing on the sock.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He opens his hand to correspond with the sock’s ‘mouth’. The wolf’s jaw opens in accordance.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He closed his hand. The wolf’s jaw shut.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Now to try actual sounds. Dream opens his hand and closes it quickly. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Bark.</span>
  </em>
  <span> The wolf barks.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dream can barely contain his joy. In the end, everything had gone exactly according to plan.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He strides back over to his secret chest, almost as if on a cloud. He copies the Puppetry book three more times, enchants the copies, then puts it back, along with the wolf sock and its respective cross-sticks. The last thing Dream does before leaving the secret base is quickly incinerates the three pairs of previous, now useless sticks into ash. He’s not about to take any chance that someone stumbles across his base and finds out what he’s been working on.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dream exits the remote base for the Greater Dream SMP area. It’s getting late, and he’s been gone for almost four full days now. He still needed to keep up with the goings on between Manburg and Pogtopia, find out what happened at the Festival, and everything else in between. He had to make sure he still kept a tight grip on everything, lest Tommy somehow escapes right through his figurative fingers. Dream has big plans for the boy.</span>
</p>
<hr/><p>
  <span>The next week or so flew by without a hitch for Dream. Like adopting any new skill, he needed to start small with simple movements, then gradually ease into more difficult and elaborate tasks. Since he would eventually abandon the wolf training entirely in favor of human trials, he elected to focus on strengthening the mental connection to the puppet rather than the actual movements. The basic commands were still there, but wolves and humans just don’t share the same movements.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>So start small he did. Dream’s first day was used solely to grow accustomed to the thoughts that ordered the wolf to do his bidding using the sticks or the sock, and eventually both at the same time. He was pleased with his work when he noticed that, by the end of the day, the thoughts had become much more natural to him, turning from a forceful command to a quick suggestion, amplified by the enchantment.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Later, he would move on to walking. That started out with moving the wolf’s legs independently, which eventually shifted to just </span>
  <em>
    <span>walk</span>
  </em>
  <span>, until it culminated with movement in all four cardinal directions. Day by day progressed similarly: one day it was running and sprinting, the next it was dodging and attacking, until it became everything all at once. Dream was making progress in leaps and bounds.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>By this time, he had figured out a few hidden properties of the enchantment. He wasn’t required to move the sticks at all to command the puppet, only hold them in his hand. However, moving the sticks in a certain way provided him much greater control of the subject, and he realized that each of the four ‘limbs’ of the assembly controlled a corresponding limb of the wolf. He practiced that aspect as well.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The sock puppet was also interesting. If Dream held his hand closed, the wolf couldn’t open its mouth, and if he held his hand open, the wolf could open and close its mouth at will, but in both cases it could not make noise. Finally, if he held his hand slack within the sock, the wolf was able to move its mouth and make any noise it wanted to. The piece of cloth was surprisingly versatile.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>That isn’t to say that Dream didn’t have a number of setbacks. Every few days, something in the Greater Dream SMP or Manburg would require his personal attention to sort out, and that often meant he was forced to spend the large majority of his day away from his practices. From his brief, daily checkups on the status of the tensions between Manburg and Pogtopia, it was clear to Dream that the two nations were getting restless. At this point, the only person who was on Schlatt’s side was Fundy, and even he was rumored to defect soon. Much like how Tubbo, Niki, and later Quackity had while Dream was at the stronghold, Fundy would leave for Pogtopia, and Schlatt would be left with nobody.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The people he knew and kept up relations with (other people would call them “friends”) had been asking what he was doing away from the lands almost every day. Dream would offer them partial truths and say he was working on a “project”. It wasn’t a lie per se, and his so-called “friends” knew that Dream could be very secretive at times, so they didn’t pry any further.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>I could probably exploit that trust at some point in the future</span>
  </em>
  <span>, he pondered.</span>
</p>
<hr/><p>
  <span>The next five days, on the other hand, are rather eventful.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>More and more of Dream’s time was being allocated towards the Manburg Rebellion, since he had nearly perfected the Puppetry skills he needed for Tommy. Now all he needed to do was create a plan to get the kid under his thumb in the first place.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It started with the inevitable war between Manburg and Pogtopia. It was clear by this time that Fundy would be defecting soon, and Dream recognized that Schlatt needed reinforcements, so he recruited the majority of the Greater Dream SMP to side with the seemingly perpetually ill president. For added effect, Dream made a deal with Wilbur which stated that no matter what, Wilbur would detonate the country.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dream had revealed the information to the rest of Pogtopia in the form of an anonymous traitor in their ranks, but Dream knew that Wilbur really wasn’t a traitor. He was still fighting for exactly what he wanted in the first place. He also knew that the pressure of a traitor meant that the enemy forces would keep secrets from each other and distract everyone from properly preparing for war. It was an added bonus, and Dream knew he would enjoy seeing the destruction and carnage.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The ultimate goal for this war was to drive a wedge between Tommy and his allies, and promptly put immense pressure on that wedge. He didn’t know how he would accomplish that just yet, but Dream was a quick thinker. He would have a plan when the time came.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But that was in the future. Right now, Dream is currently in the woods with the wolf, and he is having a hell of a time running with it, maneuvering it around trees and such like a giant obstacle course. He was very confident in his ability with the sticks, so today is just a fun activity that would double as yet more practicing. The commands in his mind are smooth and effortless, like flowing water through his thoughts. Dream eventually got so engrossed in the activity that he momentarily loses his footing and trips on a tree root, the sticks flying out of his hand, sent spinning towards a nearby tree.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dream was about to let out a laugh at his incompetence, </span>
  <em>
    <span>I really had let myself go just then</span>
  </em>
  <span>, when he heard the expected snapping of the sticks on the tree.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>What gave him pause, however, was the loud, wet </span>
  <em>
    <span>crack!</span>
  </em>
  <span> he heard simultaneously, followed by pained whimpers.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He first dashes over to the broken sticks laying on the ground. The body is still glowing purple, but the small broken piece was not. Picking them up, Dream runs over to the wolf, which was laying on the ground at his feet.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>One of its legs was broken. The white bone juts out harshly from its white fur, now stained red. Deeming the injured wolf now useless to him, Dream takes another segment of the glowing sticks in his hand and snaps it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Another one of the wolf’s legs breaks, just the same as the first as it lets out another pained whine.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He plasters his face with an evil, plotting grin. If Tommy were to ever attempt to escape Dream’s clutches or retaliate in any way, he could just use the threat of remotely breaking his leg to force him into obeying.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He turns his attention back towards the now severely injured animal. It was clearly going to die of blood loss, but he couldn’t predict when it would happen. Its death was out of his control. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dream frowns. He couldn’t allow that.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He sets down what remains of the enchanted sticks on uneven dirt, and crushes it with his whole boot.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The wolf dies in an instant, with multiple loud cracking sounds. The bloody corpse is barely recognizable as a canine.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He burns the evidence, then turns back and paces towards his base.</span>
</p>
<hr/><p>
  <span>Dream returns at his base with one goal in mind; make a lasting set of sticks. Based on his most recent revelation, they needed to be sturdy, yet slightly flexible. He had the perfect idea.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He takes two oak logs and chops them like butter with his enchanted netherite axe, until only the very centers of both logs remain. Then, taking an iron pocket knife, made with only a few melted-down nuggets instead of full ingots, he begins to carve the log cores. Very slowly and methodically, he chips away at the rough edges until the wooden rods end up almost perfectly circular.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Taking the two identical foot-long wooden rods, Dream finds the center by balancing it on his finger, and begins to carve out a square notch exactly half-way through the wood, as wide as the rod is. He replicates the process on the other rod.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He etches the name “TOMMY” near the end of one of the rods with a grin.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Using a bucket full of finely crushed nether quartz, made specially for this woodworking, Dream grasps a rod and stirs the contents with it, which serve to smooth out any remaining impurities. He repeats the process until the entire surface of both sticks have been smoothed down.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sliding the sticks into each other by the notches, he takes a bundle of string and tightly binds the two pieces to each other, using as intricate and secure methods as he can.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Finished, Dream takes a moment to marvel at his work. He was very proud of his work. It was a rather difficult and labor-intensive process for such a simple item, but he knows that his favorite puppet deserves the best. He smiles with satisfaction as he looks over the item, rubbing the indented name with his thumb, almost reminding himself who it’s made for.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His smile quickly grows into one of fervent glee as an idea passes through his mind.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dream lightly scratches away both M’s.</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>me, player of runescape in ye olde(tm) internet days and osrs more recently: "ah, yes." *writes 'nothing interesting happens'*</p><p>I really don't know where the time went. It feels like it's been two days since the last chapter but I think its been like almost four. I guess that's just me preparing you guys for slower updates in the future, what with my classes starting up again in two days which I am fucking loathing having to go back to.</p><p>ill be honest im not too proud of this chapter compared to the rest. it just felt rather boring to write, but it just sets up so many of dream's intentions and plans for the future that i felt like i had to leave it all in. i actually had to restrain myself from describing each of the first few *days* of his wolf training.</p><p>As always, thank you for kudos + comments! I recently joined a discord server led by the author qar, (you might have heard of her in this fandom) and they have given me some really great ideas for future plot and/or oneshots. The next chapter might take a similar amount of time to come out than this one, since, I say it again, Tommy's POV of the visit is essentially an out-of-body experience and I have no idea what that's like in the slightest! yay!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. Stage Fright</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Tommy comes to terms with his new identity, he just hopes Tubbo doesn't have to join him.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>i changed one of the fucks to a goddamn in the visit "conversation," always felt like there was one too many fucks, even for tommy</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“They say that the eyes are the windows to the soul, you know.” Dream states matter-of-factly as he wraps bandages repeatedly over Tommy’s dull blue eyes. Tommy doesn’t respond, doesn’t even acknowledge that Dream said anything to him.</p><p>He knows it won’t change whatever happens next.</p><p>The night before, Dream had forced Tommy to sleep in the little kitchenette, his ankle chained to the table that was bolted to the floor. It made perfect sense to the blonde boy, since Dream had told him what his plans were, he would obviously want to escape Logsteadshire in the night to at least warn Tubbo. God <em> knows </em> he wanted to warn Tubbo. Tommy didn’t know exactly what Dream was going to make him do, but he knew it wouldn’t be good.</p><p>Tommy was barely able to sleep more than a couple hours with the lingering sense of pure <em> dread </em> that blanketed him through the night. The fear over Dream, what he was really capable of, how far he could force Tommy to hurt his best friend, physically or emotionally.</p><p>He <em> hated </em> the neon green motherfucker. He hated him with every fiber of his being. He had every right to, and then some! Tommy had been under his control for over three fucking weeks! But... he was slowly losing the will to hate, or even to feel at all.</p><p>It was a very unusual feeling, knowing that not even his own limbs were safe, and it absolutely took a heavy toll on his mental state.</p><p>If Tommy’s body was a temple, he felt like he had been exiled from that, too.</p><p>Over the weeks, enduring movements he didn’t make and words he didn’t say, he began to feel like a prisoner to his own skin. It was quite dehumanizing, to say the least.</p><p>Of course Tommy had tried to escape, to run away, fight back, anything—but every attempt ended the same way. Either Dream forced him back to Logsteadshire, or for the worst offenses, used his sticks to bend his bones. The strange, searing pain that shot through the rest of his body which came with that treatment was a constant reminder of what <em> not </em> to do.</p><p>The only way Tommy was able to preserve any of his self-worth was by clinging to what little he had left that he could consider <em> his</em>. The <em> Your Tubbo </em> compass, which was gifted to him by Ghostbur before he left the area for good. It was stored in his ender chest, along with the rest of his most treasured items.</p><p>The thing about an ender chest is, in order to open it and access your items, you have to <em> want </em> to open it. Tommy never wanted to open it, and Dream couldn’t control his thoughts. Sure, his bones would bend when he refused to open the obsidian chest, but Tommy stood his ground and never opened it. Eventually, Dream gave up on that idea and just destroyed the chest outright.</p><p>Tommy also retained control over his eyes. While under control, he could flick his eyes around, move his eyebrows, and cry. The third one took a lot more trial and error to figure out than the rest.</p><p>So he used his eyes, constantly. He became rather expressive over the weeks with only a small portion of his face available to him, in fact. It was humiliating for Tommy, feeling like he had been pushed out of the rest of his body.</p><p>Now he doesn’t even have access to his eyes. They’ve been covered up with at least three full layers of gauze, sending him into a world of darkness and sound. Tommy hadn’t done anything to stop it, he knew it would be pointless. Dream got his way because he <em> always </em> got his way. He has no way to communicate anything to Tubbo now when he shows up.</p><p>But still, Tommy had to know something.</p><p>As Dream starts walking away to continue preparing for Tubbo’s visit, Tommy speaks up.</p><p>“Dream?” he croaks. His voice was much more quiet and hoarse than he wanted it to be. He clears his throat.</p><p>“Yes, Tommy?” Dream asks politely. Tommy knows all his sentiments are fake, but still he wishes in the back of his mind that they were genuine.</p><p>Tommy turns to look at him now. “Why are you doing this?”</p><p>Dream responds condescendingly. “Well, you know I can’t move your eyes, so I wrapped them in gauze so you can’t-”</p><p>Tommy cuts him off, mustering up all the feeling of annoyance he can, sighing softly. “No, no, I know that. I mean- why are you bringing Tubbo into this? He doesn’t deserve whatever you’re gonna make <em> me </em> do to him. You’ve already got me in the literal palm of your fucking hands, just- leave Tubbo out of this. Please.” he pleads pathetically, the second time in the last day.</p><p>He barely notices Dream walking over when he suddenly rests his hands on Tommy’s shoulders. He tenses up reflexively at the touch.</p><p>Dream replies slowly, sweetness in his voice that tasted so bitter to Tommy’s ears. “Oh, Tommy. Unfortunately, I’m a bit of a greedy child. I’m not satisfied with just <em> one </em> toy.”</p><p>Tommy’s face turns a shade of ghostly white when he hears the words. He couldn’t bear the thought of <em> Tubbo </em> having to go through the same hell he did. He knew Tubbo, the shorter brunette was so much more emotional than he was, <em> Tubbo wouldn’t last a week- </em></p><p>“<em>No... </em>Tubbo can’t...” Tommy mutters, voice barely above a whisper.</p><p>“Besides,” Dream cuts him off and leans close to Tommy’s ear for a whisper. “<em>This is so much more fun.</em>”</p><p>All the energy that Tommy might’ve had before to talk back to Dream had instantly evaporated. All he had the will to do now is cry under his bandages, and wait for Tubbo to arrive.</p><p>So he did.</p>
<hr/><p>Tommy had a plan for Tubbo’s visit. It wasn’t exactly a plan so much as a coping mechanism, but he still knew what he was going to do.</p><p>He would listen to Tubbo.</p><p>He would only listen to Tubbo, not the words that would come out of To<strike>mm</strike>y’s mouth.</p><p>It was the worst feeling Tommy would probably ever have to endure, calling his own body by a different name. It made him sick every time, yet it helped him remember that what he would do was <em> not </em> what he wanted to do, that his intentions and actions were two completely different things now.</p><p>So that was his body’s new name. Toy. Just thinking about such a thing repulsed Tommy to no end. But it’s fine! He just has to remember that, in his current situation, his mind and body are at a disconnect. He can return to calling his body Tommy all he wants, once Dream momentarily releases his grip on... <em> Toy’s </em> sticks.</p><p>This was going to be a bitch of a challenge.</p><p>Suddenly, Dream walks out from the Logsteadshire campsite and strides over to Tommy, who only notices him once he starts speaking, thanks to his unnaturally quiet steps.</p><p>“It’s playtime.” Dream says to him with a sly tone.</p><p>As soon as he stops talking, Dream chugs an invisibility potion and wields Tom- <em> Toy’s </em> sock and sticks. He wills Toy to get up from the log he’d been sitting on and go lay down in Tnret.</p><p>Oh no. This is bad.</p><p>Obviously, Tommy is no stranger to Dream’s will, he’s been under the green bitch’s control for nearly a month!</p><p>But this was the first time he’s ever been <em> blinded </em> while it happens.</p><p>Tommy didn’t expect much to change, but this was so much worse than he thought it would be. With just his eyesight removed, the entire feeling changed dramatically. Before, it was like his body just refused to follow his commands, but now, Tommy felt completely evicted from it, like he was a blind ghost, and Dream’s ghost has possessed his body instead.</p><p>Tommy can’t even hyperventilate.</p><p>Toy’s steady body and Tommy’s panicked mind are at war with each other, and Toy is winning. <em> I really am just Dream’s plaything, aren’t I? </em> No, no he can’t think like that. He has to focus on Tubbo, on his voice. Tubbo will pull him out of his special hell, at least for today. Dream was in charge now, and that meant Tubbo would show up any second.</p><p>Then, almost as if on cue, Tommy hears the whoosh of the Nether portal. Tubbo is here. <em> Tubbo is in Logsteadshire</em>. Tommy feels his spirits lift off the ground, and his mood eases at just the thought of how close his best friend is.</p><p>Tubbo doesn’t start talking for a good minute, until Tommy feels Toy suddenly get up and walk out of Tnret, crossing his arms. After a few seconds, Toy loudly clears his throat. Tommy assumes it’s to get Tubbo’s attention.</p><p>He hears his voice—<em>Toy’s </em> voice—call Tubbo “Mr. President”. It’s uncalled for, but Tommy ignores it, he just <em> has to hear Tubbo’s voice- </em></p><p>“Ah, h-hey, Tommy,”</p><p>The payoff is immense. Tommy has the pleasure of hearing Tubbo’s voice again for the first time in nearly a month. He feels like his heart is vibrating with joy as he allows the sound to bounce around his head, letting it linger as long as he possibly can, as he might not get another chance like this.</p><p><em> This </em> is the voice of his best friend. Sure, Tommy can tell that it’s dripping with nervousness, but it’s unmistakably <em> Tubbo</em>. It’s his real voice, so soft and caring. It’s not the voice of the president of L’Manburg that Tommy heard during his exile. That voice was shouting, <em> screaming </em> with an anger that he never even knew Tubbo had, let alone a voice he would use to speak to Tommy.</p><p>He was broken from his thoughts when he heard Tubbo speak up again. Tommy reminded himself to listen to everything he had to say.</p><p>“-the, uh, the bandages? Over your eyes?” It stings Tommy a bit, hearing just how uncomfortable Tubbo was. <em> Dream fucking covered them up, he won’t even let me </em> look <em> at you! </em></p><p>“Eye infection. Dream-” Toy was speaking now. Tommy tries his best to ignore it, but he needs to do something, <em> anything </em> to keep away the feeling of how utterly useless he is. His efforts present themselves in the form of attempting to talk to Tubbo through some kind of telepathy. <em> No, no Tubbo that isn’t true! Please, you can’t believe that! My body- Toy is lying to you! </em></p><p>“Oh, that’s, good. That’s good.” <em> No it’s not </em> <b> <em>fucking</em> </b> <em> good, Tubbo! Leave and go get help, please! </em> Tommy was mentally shouting now against the brick wall that separated his mind and body.</p><p>“-the hell do you want. Or do you go by <em>sir</em> now?” Toy asks, and Tommy is enraged hearing the poison in his own voice. <em>Don’t you fucking call him </em><b>SIR</b><b><em>, you BASTARD!! He has a name! IT’S TUBBO!!</em></b> Tommy was kicking and screaming at the wall.</p><p>“I-I just want to, to talk to you, Tommy. Maybe, apologize? Try to make up for the, uh, th-things I did? I even brought you a gift-” Tommy could feel the nervous energy that fell out of his words as he spoke, and it broke him out of his fit of rage.</p><p><em> Apologize? Tubbo forgives me? And he brought a gift?? Yes Tubbo of </em> course <em> I forgive you, I do!! </em> <b> <em>Please,</em> </b> <em> tell me what the gift is, nobody has ever given me a gift here, please! </em></p><p>“<b><em>Stop.</em></b>” Toy commands, and Tommy feels his arm and palm rise to stop Tubbo. <em> No </em> - “I don’t want your <em> fucking </em> pity shit.” <em> No, Tubbo, I know it’s not out of </em> pity<em>! I know you don’t pity me! I </em> want <em> the gift, Tubbo, please!! Don’t believe Toy, he’s fucking </em> <b> <em>lying </em> </b> <em> to you!! </em> “-<em>buddies </em> again? Fine. Let’s talk.” </p><p>“O-okay.” Tubbo agrees. <em> No, no! </em> <b> <em>No!</em> </b></p><p>The silence afterwards makes Tommy think he’s having what he can only assume is a full-on mental panic, because it physically <em> hurts </em> that his body is unable to respond to it like his mind is. His thoughts are racing past him at a mile a minute, he can barely keep a single one coherent. He’s only broken out of his panic at the sudden sound of Tubbo’s voice, loud and shouting.</p><p>“<b><em>Tommy, I’m sorry!!</em> </b> <em> I never should’ve exiled you, </em> I should have- I should’ve <em> worked with you </em> and came up with a <em> better solution! </em> It was the <em> biggest </em> mistake of my <b> <em>fucking</em> </b> <em> life, </em> Tommy! I just want to <em> take it all back</em>, to go back to how things were before all this <em> shit </em> happened! <em> Please! Please, Tommy, forgive me!! You’re my- </em>my- my best friend, Tommy. I-I’m nothing without you.”</p><p>Tommy feels tears start to push themselves out of his eyes. He’s cried a lot since yesterday, so he was rather low on the salty substance, but his eyes still manage to find more. He’s sure he’d been crying earlier, but he was too busy having a fucking <em> panic attack </em> to notice when it started.</p><p>His heart feels lighter than air hearing Tubbo admit that they're still best friends, but he’s feeling way too <em> much </em> to think straight. The hurricane in his brain holds every thought from <em> Damn right you made a mistake exiling me. </em> to <em> Yes, I am your best friend! I am! </em></p><p>The flurry of thoughts gets worse and worse, until suddenly Toy’s voice cuts the silence and gives his thoughts something to focus on.</p><p>“... Sorry?” <em> No. No, stop. </em> “You exile me?” <em> No! Stop! </em> “Leave me to <em> die</em>, in the middle of <b><em>goddamn nowhere! </em></b>” <em> Stop! </em> <b> <em>Stop it!!</em> </b> “And all you can say is <em> fucking sorry?! </em>” <b> <em>STOP! NO, STOP!!</em> </b></p><p>“<b><em>I am not your fucking FRIEND anymore, Tubbo!! </em></b>” <b> <em>STOP! SHUT UP, SHUT UP, SHUT UP!!!</em> </b></p><p>“<em>The discs were better friends to me than you </em> <b> <em>ever were.</em></b>”</p><p>Every thought stops in an instant.</p><p>Every thought starts right back up again when Tommy feels his fist clench and arm wind up for an attack.</p><p>
  <b> <em>NO NO STOP NO DON’T NO STOP IT DON’T-</em> </b>
</p><p>Tommy feels his knuckles connect with warm skin and his mind goes completely numb.</p><p>“<b><em>LEAVE!!! </em></b>” <em> No! No, stop- </em></p><p>“<b><em>Did you not fucking HEAR ME?!</em> </b> ” <em> No, please. </em></p><p>“<b><em>I said LEAVE!! Get OUT OF HERE!!</em> </b> ” <em> Stop... </em></p><p>“<b><em>I NEVER WANT TO SEE YOU AGAIN!!</em> </b> ” <em> Please... </em></p><p>Tommy’s mind snaps back into Toy’s body and they both fall onto the ground with a thud.</p>
<hr/><p>Philza steps out of the straight diagonal hole he’d dug in the netherrack, twenty-one pieces of newly-mined ancient debris stored in his pack, enough for a full set of armor and one item, likely a sword or pickaxe. The struggling father of four—well, technically two, as Tubbo was adopted and Wilbur was... dead—had just finished a day’s work of netherite mining. </p><p>He had been worried about Tubbo ever since he let slip that he didn’t have a set of netherite armor. He was the president of an independent and <em> growing </em> nation, not to mention a teenager, and he didn’t even possess the same level of protection that his enemies had.</p><p>Since the day Tubbo had told him, Phil had vowed to change that.</p><p>He only needed a quarter of a stack for four ingots, but he had a number of beds left and didn’t want it to go to waste. It was a rather simple process, simply bring wool, wooden planks, and potions of fire resistance for safety. Craft a number of beds, set one down underground, stand back, shoot it with an arrow, and brace for impact. However, potions and beds take up a lot of inventory space, so he needed to bring a carrying pack for the added inventory space. Unless of course, someone actually <em> wanted </em> to return to the Overworld to restock on supplies every half an hour.</p><p>Phil was also getting netherite armor for his son because he could tell how distraught the boy was. He put on a brave facade day in, day out, but it was one he recognized, having raised him ever since finding him in that cardboard box on his front porch almost fifteen years ago. Phil was in his mid-forties now, and while he had made a number of mistakes concerning his sons in the land of the Dream SMP, he was going to work as hard as he could to correct them.</p><p>He knew the history of L’Manburg, and he didn’t like how many times the name <em> Dream </em> would come up throughout. Now Dream was <em> literally </em> popping up in L’Manburg. He was very wary of the man, to say the least. Tubbo had always assured him that Dream was content with the way things were going. With Tommy out of the picture, he claimed that the leader of the enemy faction had no qualms with the aspiring nation.</p><p>Phil simply couldn’t believe that, but he wouldn’t tell that to Tubbo and make him worry more than he already did. The father’s relatively old age gave him something of a sixth sense, to feel what was lurking under the surface, but was blind when it came to his children.</p><p>Again, in the case of the green man’s mask, it was <em> literally </em> under its surface.</p><p>So, Phil mined. He mined to protect his remaining family, to prove to himself and anyone who would pay attention that he wasn’t a terrible father, that he just made some mistakes.</p><p>Yeah, mistakes. Like murdering his middle son at his behest, like being too busy with the ghost of said son to prevent his youngest from getting exiled by his second youngest. Mistakes.</p><p>Luckily, Phil was snapped out of his recollections when he spots someone running towards the Nether hub. He instantly recognizes the navy blue slacks, white shirt, and brunette hair as Tubbo, just the son he wanted to see!</p><p>“Hey, Tubbo!” Phil calls. They aren’t too far from each other, maybe only a few hundred feet, so Tubbo should hear his father’s call.</p><p>Strangely, he doesn’t so much as pause at the sound. Squinting, Phil notices that Tubbo was barely running, his legs look somewhat sluggish and his arms are only weakly pumping. Quickly scanning the area behind the boy, there were no mobs or players of any sort, so Phil really doesn’t know what he’s running away from in such a state.</p><p>“Tubbo?” he calls, mostly for himself. A layer of concern had wormed its way into his voice.</p><p>Without warning, Tubbo keels over and falls forward onto the stone brick center of the path, gray bricks surrounded on both sides by blackstone ones.</p><p>Phil’s eyes widen in shock and he lets out a gasp. “<em>Tubbo! </em>” he shouts, dashing across the hellscape as fast as he can to reach him, to rescue him.</p><p>All he could think about as he ran was how his son was in trouble, and <em> yet again </em> he hadn’t noticed until it was too late.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>dream: "YOU. ARE. A. TOYYY!"<br/>tommy: "You are a sad, strange little man. And you have my pity. Farewell!"</p><p>Turns out I really wanted to get this chapter out as fast as I could so you're getting it sooner than I expected. At any rate it marks a huge turning point in Tommy's outlook in this story, and I could just copy over most of the dialogue. I didn't intend originally to get so deep into the dehumanizing aspect of it, but a comment on the last chapter inspired me.</p><p>can you tell i tried to actually incorporate swears that aren't just 'fuck' in this chapter</p><p>Not much left to say here. Enjoy! Next chapter will be Tubbo waking up in L'Manburg, and I'll try to include as many characters as I can that haven't gotten any lines yet. No guarantee the lines will be very accurate to their actual mannerisms.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0006"><h2>6. Sins of the Father</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Philza does a teensy bit of Introspection after nursing Tubbo's injuries.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>this is definitely me when i add major character death to the warnings</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Phil is distraught. A few hours ago, he had just carried an unconscious Tubbo through the Nether portal, and he was resting in a small infirmary built by Eret just outside the walls of his castle. The king was present, having heard the father’s distressed shouts for help when he ran to the castle. Eret had his sunglasses on to shield his sensitive, pure white eyes from the lights of the similarly bright room.</p><p>He was there to help, as he knew the layout of the building and the locations of all the medical supplies Phil would need to treat Tubbo. He knew of the king’s history with the people of L’Manburg, but he also knew that they had all but reconciled when Eret fought alongside Pogtopia during the war, after he had been dethroned.</p><p>Phil had considered sending a global message on his communicator, asking anyone who was a friend of the teen to come to his side and wait for his recovery. He decided against it when he looked the boy over and saw that his injuries were relatively minor. Phil needed answers first, he would act later only if it was appropriate.</p><p>Tubbo had a bit of blood trailing down the side of his head, likely from where he had fallen over and hit the stone brick. It wasn’t a lot and didn’t look like a concussion—he had evidently managed to catch himself somewhat and slow his descent. Phil had felt relieved at that. The troubling part were the tear lines streaking down both sides of his soft face, passing right over the purple blemish that threatened to engulf the whole of his left cheek.</p><p>Tubbo hadn’t passed out from blood loss or anything, just exhaustion. Phil had guessed it from the way he was running through the Nether, but it felt good to be sure. He would probably wake within the next two hours. Still, it worried him deeply thinking about just what Tubbo could be running from for so long. How long <em> had </em> he been running for?</p><p>Phil mulled over the evidence in his head, anything to pass the time. <em> Tubbo was visiting Sam. Sam is a great guy, Tubbo has never had a problem with him. At least, from what he’s told me. Dream could’ve done this, he absolutely could’ve done this, but Tubbo didn’t mention him once, and I haven’t seen him at all today, either. It was probably a mob of the Nether, and I just didn’t see it. Maybe a Ghast. Tubbo’s clothes did look a bit dirty, but not singed, like from a fireball. Maybe it was just a lot of piglins. </em></p><p>He settled on somewhere between a pack of piglins and Dream.</p><p>It hurt, the feeling of not knowing what your own children had been through. It started with Wilbur. One day, he and Tommy had announced they were leaving the family home to travel the world, see new sights, make a name for themselves. Tommy and Tubbo were practically joined at the hip, so Tubbo joined them. Phil was sad to see them go, but proud to see them grow up. He worried about Tommy a bit, but knew he was in good hands with Wilbur. The three had bonded with each other more than any of them had with Technoblade.</p><p>They sent letters home regularly, explaining how they’d felt they were being wronged by the other inhabitants of their new land, so they started a small revolution within it. They all sent about starting L’Manburg, being betrayed, Wilbur adopting Fundy, gaining independence, starting an election. Phil was so proud of all of them, he made sure to tell Techno about that every day.</p><p>Then, the letters turned sour. It began when, for the first time in months, they went a day without receiving one letter. That made Phil worried, but Techno assured him that it was just one letter, they’d send the next day.</p><p>The next day did have letters. Two of them, in fact. One was for Phil, and the other for Technoblade. Phil’s letter was from Wilbur, and it talked about how the wretched tyrant J. Schlatt had somehow cinched the election from under their feet, and had <em> exiled </em> both Wilbur and Tommy from the country they founded. He had been betrayed by his own adopted son, and everyone else was too scared by the new president to run away with them.</p><p>Technoblade’s letter was from Tommy. It was short and to the point, somehow the loudest child held the move brevity when it came to writing. Apart from Tubbo, of course, but he had good reason to not send many letters, as writing was rather difficult for him. Tommy’s letter had simply asked for Technoblade to assist them in the rebellion, they were only two men against a whole nation, and they needed all the help they could get.</p><p>So Techno left Phil, alone in the farmstead with nothing but the smell of fresh potatoes to keep him company. He didn’t really expect Techno to send letters, he simply wasn’t one for the pleasantries, so unlike his brothers.</p><p>Tubbo immediately stopped writing. Tommy was sending every few days, but at least Wilbur was sending consistently every day. He sent about Tubbo joining them as a spy for <em> Manburg</em>, Techno joining the fight, training them for combat and keeping them fed with yet more potatoes. Tommy sent about small battles they had with people not part of Manburg, with Dream on his side for the fight.</p><p>Seeing Dream on <em> Tommy’s </em> side was quite the curveball. He knew all about the masked man, how he had relentlessly attacked the revolution, fully geared with netherite, and now he was <em> working </em> with them? It didn’t make sense. But, the letter assured him that everything was fine, so Phil didn’t dwell on it.</p><p>Eventually, a letter came in from Wilbur that talked all about a festival being hosted by the same dictator that exiled them. It was a celebration of democracy, and while Wilbur and Tommy weren’t invited, Tubbo would be writing the speech. <em> That should be interesting, </em> Phil mused. Wilbur wrote that he was happy for the nation he helped create, maybe the president wasn’t quite as bad of a guy as he thought. Tubbo was certainly excited for the festival, as he was in charge of most of it, even sending out the invitations to everyone including Technoblade.</p><p>Something had gone wrong.</p><p>Tommy stopped sending letters altogether. Wilbur still sent daily letters, but they were... off. His normally clean handwriting was gradually getting shakier and shakier with each letter, and he had started only mentioning the facts, with no sort of embellishment in the sentences that he loved to use so much. The slow degradation of his letters was even more off-putting, given how eerily <em> ordinary </em> they were. Techno was amassing more and more items, he and Tommy were plotting to reclaim their L’Manburg, and they were building secret tunnels that connected the two locations.</p><p>Wilbur sent a letter about the festival.</p><p>It went great, apparently.</p><p>Wilbur and Tommy had attended anyway, opting to stay hidden from the shadows and watch. Techno had beat up a few people in a boxing ring, Fundy fell into a dunk tank, and they enjoyed the stands set up for festival treats and gifts. Tubbo’s speech went off without a hitch, and everyone was happy, their spirits high for the bright future that Manburg held. Tommy and Techno even had a friendly spar after the festival ended.</p><p>By all accounts, the letter <em> should </em> have put Phil at ease, but it just made him feel more conflicted. Wilbur used reassuring words every single time, defusing Phil’s words of worry.</p><p>The next letters to come mostly talked about how people were gradually joining the rebellion, officially. First Tubbo and Niki, then Quackity, Fundy, and Dream had squarely aligned himself with Manburg. The masked leader of the Greater Dream SMP switching sides a second time was to be expected, at least.</p><p>Ordinary letter after ordinary letter were sent to Phil, somehow talking about everything and nothing at the same time.</p><p>One day, he got a letter from Technoblade. It was the very first one he got from his oldest son since he left, and Phil opened it with hesitation in his heart.</p><p>His eyes nearly bugged out of their sockets when he read the paper.</p><p>
  <em> Hey Phil, </em>
</p><p>
  <em> All of Pogtopia is going to war with Manburg in a few days. Wilbur and I are planning to detonate the entire country. Wish us luck. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> ~Technoblade </em>
</p><p>Phil stuffed supplies and personal items into his inventory and pack as fast as he possibly could, and dashed out the door for Manburg, not once looking back. He didn’t even bother to read Wil’s letter.</p>
<hr/><p>“What are you doing?”</p><p>Wilbur freezes, “Phil?”</p><p>Phil takes one look at his son, immediately noticing how <em> wrong </em> he looks. The signature beanie is gone, and he’s wearing a huge brown and black trench coat that extends all the way to his ankles, topped off with a sort of cloak which extended a bit up the back of his head. His limbs, as far as Phil can see past the coat, are gangly and thin, like he had been letting himself go hungry for days, or he’s spent the last two months on a diet of only one food item. Maybe both. Phil knew Wilbur inside and out—his son was bright and outgoing, and cared highly about maintaining his style. He would never willingly put so much effort into an outfit that was so imposing and closed off from the world.</p><p>Maybe that is just his son’s new style. Phil hates that a small part of him believes that.</p><p>He glances around the small room he found himself in. When he had arrived at the Dream SMP, he immediately scrambled around for a map that could tell him where L’Manburg or Manburg was. It didn’t matter, the land would be the same. Rushing over to the site, which was easy to spot on the horizon with the two giant, looming towers flanking its borders, he found that whatever commotion there was previously had died down. There were about twenty-five people, give or take, sitting in the audience, and one on a podium, looking over them. Phil quickly ducked behind a low wall and listened closely. Fortunately, there was a microphone and speaker setup, so it wasn’t too difficult to hear the speech clearly.</p><p>Phil sighs in relief, letting out the tension he had built up in his body. Tommy was the one who had been speaking. He’s safe, and he sounds unharmed. His youngest is celebrating their victory over Manburg, thanking Wilbur for granting him the presidency of L’Manburg, pointedly including the L in the name. The audience cheers loudly.</p><p>However, Tommy doesn’t accept the presidency. He’s about to end his speech when he gets interrupted by something in the back of the audience.</p><p>Phil hears the booming voice over the loudspeakers. “But- but I can’t be the president. Because Dream, we’ve still got unfinished business, because you’ve still got my discs.”</p><p>“<em>What? </em>” Phil mutters under his breath. He squints to the back of the crowd. Sure enough, Dream is holding up two music discs in one hand, one with a lime green center, the other white with purple stripes. Phil scowled in anger at the sight of his son’s most precious possessions in the hands of their sworn enemy. Cat and Mellohi, but those names only belonged to the music they could play.</p><p><em> Oh, that motherfucker</em>, he thinks. Did he not know how important those discs were to him? Those are goddamn family heirlooms! Phil had passed them down to Tommy at a young age when he recognized how sentimental the boy was, hidden underneath his brash personality. He knew that Tommy would protect them with his very lives. Phil can’t begin to fathom to imagine what had to happen for him to give them up willingly.</p><p>So Tommy wouldn’t be the president. He hands the title back to Wilbur, who also doesn’t accept it, citing that he learned from Technoblade that it wouldn’t be right for him to be the president again. Wilbur then gives it to Tubbo, who finally accepts it. Phil’s kindest son goes as far as to somewhat <em> forgive </em> his enemies, saying he’s happy that everyone is here for L’Manburg, regardless of whether they were fighting for or against it. That makes Phil smile warmly. Tubbo was probably the most sensitive and forgiving person he knew, proud to have the privilege to call him his son.</p><p>Phil’s smile falters into a frown when he sees it. There’s harsh scars on Tubbo’s neck and under his chin, disappearing into his loose green dress shirt, and Phil can only assume they look even worse underneath it. He feels almost sick. <em> What happened to you, Tubbo? </em></p><p>His thoughts don’t go unanswered for long, since Tubbo is speaking again. “Alright! First order of business, I say we take down the decorations from my public execution!”</p><p>What the fuck.</p><p>Execution? Someone had <em> executed </em> Tubbo? Sweet, kind, bee-loving <em> Tubbo? </em> Phil really thought he was going to be sick now, and it takes every muscle in his body to prevent him from rushing over and holding the new president in a tight bear hug. He has to stay hidden for now, has to stop Wilbur from destroying all they worked for.</p><p>That’s how he wound up in the room. He followed Wilbur around the back of the hill that the podium stood on after he had ducked into his little room, hidden by the commotion of the crowd. The horrifying stone room with dynamite and TNT strewn about, large words scribbled on the rough, uneven walls like the insane ramblings of a madman. Phil vaguely recognized the words of their country’s anthem, <em> My L’Manburg </em> . There’s a chair in the middle of the room, so he can sit and relax and <em> watch </em> the spectacle of the nation he worked to reclaim being blown to smithereens.</p><p>“What are you doing.” Phil repeats, tone stern.</p><p>Wilbur twists his body around to look at him, feet firmly planted on the floor, and a stake of horror drives through his heart.</p><p>Wilbur barely resembles his son.</p><p>He wears a thin, white shirt under his unbuttoned coat, stained with blood. The fringe in his brown hair has grown out so much that it covers nearly the entire left side of his face, obscuring his eye completely and most of his cheek. The most unsettling part about him is the crazed look he has in his one uncovered eye, complete with a dark circle under it, evidence of weeks without proper rest. Wilbur had completely fallen to the throes of insanity.</p><p>He clutches his fringe and pulls on it nervously. “We- I- I wasn’t doing anything, Phil. We just made Tubbo president, and we won! We won the war, and Schlatt’s dead, Schlatt’s dead, Phil.” He spoke quickly, voice raspy.</p><p>“So, you <em> didn’t </em> come in here to blow everything up, then?” Phil asked accusingly.</p><p>“No, no! No, I- no, I just-” Wilbur quickly denies the claim. He pauses a few seconds, sighs longingly at the button, then steps out of the way, allowing Phil to see his oaken handiwork.</p><p>Wilbur continues. “I, will admit... do you know what this button is?” he gestures at it.</p><p>“No, but I think I have a pretty good idea.” Phil tries to keep his voice level, but he knows he’s scared. His own son had rigged his nation to detonate at the push of a button!</p><p>Wilbur starts rambling now, “How about the s- the song, that I’ve written on- on the walls? Have you heard the song, before? I was just saying, I was just making a point, and it was poignant, th-there <em> was </em> a special place, where men could go and emancipate, but th-there’s not there anymore, y’know, it’s not...”</p><p>Phil takes the opportunity to try and comfort his son, bring him down from his pedestal, bring him home. He puts on the most apologetic and understanding face he can, and approaches Wilbur to put a hand on his shoulder.</p><p>“It <em>is</em> there, Wil. You’ve just won it back! Everyone’s put in so many months of effort to get this land back, and you just want to blow it all up? Please, Wil, let’s just leave-”</p><p>Wilbur violently shoves the hand off his shoulder and suddenly starts screaming, causing Phil to flinch and step back. Both of Wilbur’s hands are yanking on his hair now. “<b><em>NO! No, it’s NOT here anymore!</em></b> Don’t- <em>don’t </em><b><em>talk</em></b> to me like you <em>know</em> what we’ve <em>been through!</em> <b><em>You haven’t been here.</em></b>” The last sentence seethes through gritted teeth, crazed rage in his eyes. Phil pales at the words.</p><p>Wilbur’s right, he’s always right. He <em> hadn’t </em> been there in his son’s time of need. But he didn’t even know it was his time of need! He was lying in his letters, hiding things from his own father! Phil should’ve just gone with Technoblade, should’ve <em> been </em> there-</p><p>Wilbur seems to flip a switch in his mind, and he’s calm again. “You know, Phil, there was a saying. A saying by a traitor, of L’Manburg. You wouldn’t know him, Eret?”</p><p>“Wil, what are you-”</p><p>“<em>It was never meant to be! </em>”</p><p>He pushes the button from behind his back.</p><p>“<b><em>NO!-</em></b>” Phil screams, lunging at Wilbur to drop them both onto the floor, heads down, shielding from the explosion.</p><p>It’s so loud. Phil doesn’t think he’s ever heard anything louder. Light streams into the room, the explosion had just blown out the wall with the button on it, but left the rest, and themselves, unharmed.</p><p>Phil doesn’t know what to say, he doesn’t think he can say anything right now anyway, not after a good five months of work had just gone up in smoke and sulphur. The smoke clears, and he immediately sees his sons, Tommy and Tubbo, looking right at him. The latter looks injured, but they’re too far away, Phil can’t see their faces or hear what they’re saying with the ringing in his ears.</p><p>Wilbur revels in the destruction of his nation, a gleeful smile on his face. “<em>My L’Manburg, Phil! My </em> <b> <em>unfinished symphony</em></b><em>, forever unfinished! If I can’t have this, </em> <b> <em>no one can!</em> </b>”</p><p>Phil gets up off his knees, ringing gone. Wilbur notices, and whips around to stare his father right in the eyes.</p><p>“<em>Kill me, Phil. </em>” The unstable look in his eyes comes back stronger than ever. He’s grinning madly, and his hair is pushed back to reveal both eyes.</p><p>“<em>What? </em> No-” Phil rasps, being cut off by the clatter of Wilbur’s sword on the ground, before his feet.</p><p>“<em>Kill me, Phil. Phil, </em> <b> <em>kill</em> </b> <em> me! Stab me with the sword. My story is over! My country is GONE! </em> <b> <em> KILL ME!! </em></b>”</p><p>“<em>No, </em> Wil, you’re- <em> you’re my </em> <b> <em>son!</em> </b>” Phil pleads.</p><p>Wilbur grabs the sword and pushes it into his hands, closing them around the hilt. “<em>Look, </em> they all want you to! <em> Do it! Kill me! </em>”</p><p>Phil’s hands are shaking violently, tears streaming out of his eyes. “<em>No! No, I </em> <b> <em>can’t! </em> </b> <em> I </em> <b> <em>love</em> </b> <em> you, Wil! </em>”</p><p>Wilbur looks Phil in the eyes once more, the soft look he knows returning to them, if only for a moment.</p><p>“I love you too, dad.”</p><p>Wilbur holds Phil’s hands again and suddenly pulls them towards his chest, plunging the sword clean through his own heart.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>one of my betas said they looked over this whole thing twice and only suggested a few paragraph breaks and a couple formatting tweaks. i was physically pogging</p><p>Not much to say about this chapter! It's just 80% Dadza because holy hell do I have a bone to pick with canon. The canon divergence at the very end only popped in my head writing the page before it, when I got to thinking 'how do i make phil just a bit better of a dad while still killing wilbur?' and this popped out.<br/>Also, I'm not gonna write this, but Phil asks literally everyone he can, as soon as he can, about exactly what happened to his family. He knows everything now, start to finish.</p><p>Thank you for any and all continued support on this fic! I really love this AU, and I'm still reeling from *apparently im good at this???* I was this close to putting in one last scene break and writing "Tubbo wakes up" and nothing else at the very end. But yeah, Tubbo wakes up next chapter.</p><p>Edit: no wait how could i forget? this chapter marks the first time I had to do research on the smp. i wanted to know the exact speech between wilbur and phil in the button room so i could modify it just right!<br/>also in case it wasn't clear enough, the inventory system works like: everyone has an innate inventory linked to their person: the minecraft 1-9 hotbar. if you want the rest of the inventory you have to bring some kinda knapsack, carrying case, hell schlatt probably uses a fuckin briefcase, what i colloquially refer to in this fic as "pack"</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0007"><h2>7. Rescue Mission</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Comfort? In <em>my</em> fanfiction?<br/>It’s more likely than you think.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Tubbo wakes up.</p><p>Phil’s memories return to the back of his mind as his attention is brought back to Tubbo, who had started to stir and moan quietly in the bed he was lying in. Phil quickly gets up, wipes off his wet eyes, and walks across the room to kneel at Tubbo’s bedside once more. He puts a tender hand on the brunette boy’s shoulder, and speaks softly to bring him back to consciousness.</p><p>“Hey, Tubbo.” Phil says with a warm smile.</p><p>Tubbo slowly opens his eyes and turns his head to look at Phil. “... Phil?” he whispers.</p><p>“Hey mate, it’s me. I’m here. Dadza’s here.” Phil is combing the brown hair through his fingers now, which puts Tubbo’s mood at ease.</p><p>“Where... am I?” Tubbo asks, gazing around the room. He scrunches his face in effort, hands moving to sit up in the bed.</p><p>“No, no, buddy, don’t get up yet.” Phil soothes, and Tubbo relaxes to lay back down on the pillow. “You’re in the infirmary, between Eret’s castle and the Community House.”</p><p>Phil pauses a moment to let Tubbo process the information before continuing. “How do you feel, Tubs? Does anything hurt?”</p><p>The injured president takes a second, seemingly to give himself a mental checkup. He winces, finding what he’s looking for. He brings a hand up to his forehead to soothe it with firm rubs, noticing it’s been bandaged. “Not, really... my feet and legs are sore, and I have a splitting headache, b-but that’s about it.” His voice is still a bit hoarse, slowly returning to its normal state.</p><p>“That’s great, buddy, I’m so glad you’re okay. I’ll go and ask Eret to fetch you some water, then we can talk about what happened.” Tubbo nods slightly.</p><p>Phil stands and moves towards the door, opening it a crack and poking his head through. Eret immediately notices and looks up at him, pausing the writing he was doing on what appeared to be a bit of royal paperwork.</p><p>“Tubbo just woke up. He isn’t hurt, just tired and has a headache. Could you get water bottles and maybe some gapples for him?” Phil asks.</p><p>“Of course, Philza, right away.” Eret replies, putting his work on hold and disappearing around the corner of the stone brick wall. He had left his long royal cape on a hook on the wall when he began, so he could sit comfortably in the chair he had decided to occupy.</p><p>Phil returns to Tubbo’s bedside, electing not to close the door, now that he’s awake and relatively alert. “Eret left to go get some water and gapples for you, he’ll be back soon.”</p><p>Tubbo smiles softly. Golden apples were a miracle, really. In just one bite, the pure gold imbued into the red fruit was reinvigorating, granting the user absorption and regenerative properties, which replenished overall health, stamina, and energy. On the inside it remained a plain apple as well, so eating the entire fruit was its own snack that fended off hunger. </p><p>Biting into the gleaming edibles were a much more natural and relaxing method of rejuvenation than volatile potions. Sure, potions are specialized in their use, and were <em> very </em> effective in those uses, but they left the user with a certain high, almost manic at times, and that’s not what Tubbo needs right now.</p><p>Phil holds his hand out to steady his son while he moves to an upright position. “Here mate, let’s get you up.”</p><p>“Alright.” Tubbo replies. He shifts his back off the bed, giving enough room for Phil to slide his hand under to help pull him up, and Tubbo holds onto his other hand to help pull him up. Once he’s sitting upright on the bed, his head starts to hang dizzily like he’s about to pass out again, but Phil keeps his chest up.</p><p>Once Tubbo’s dizzy spell passes and he gives a reassuring “I’m fine,” Phil lets him go so he can get comfortable to tell him what happened.</p><p>After a few seconds, once Tubbo looks fully alert again, Phil breaks the question, comforting hand still placed on the boy’s back. “Tubbo, mate, what happened? I saw you attempting to run towards the Nether portal when you just fell over. What were you running from?”</p><p>Tubbo looks up at his father’s face thoughtfully, when suddenly his mouth curls into a thin frown, the corners of his eyes crinkle, and fresh tears spring from his eyes.</p><p>“<em>T- Tommy! </em>” he cries loudly, arms open, and practically falls into Phil. Tubbo wraps his limbs around his father for a hug, buries his face into the comforting shoulder, and sobs violently.</p><p>“There, there.” Phil pats and rubs his son’s back to calm him down, but he can’t shake the worried expression on his face. <em> Tommy? It was Tommy that did this to poor Tubbo? Those two are brothers, best friends even! Sure, Tubbo had exiled Tommy from L’Manburg, but they’re practically inseparable! Surely, if anyone would ever recover from something like that, it’s those two. </em></p><p>His thoughts are interrupted by the sound of a small knock from the door. Phil turns his head and sees Eret in the doorway, knuckles on against the wall, with a very sympathetic yet uncomfortable look on his face.</p><p>Phil gestures to a small end table near the door and the king empties his hands and inventory of a few bottles and gapples, then swiftly exits the room and latches the door quietly.</p><p>When Tubbo’s sobs start to quiet down, Phil eases him out of the hug, and using his hand, carefully wipes the tears on his cheeks away. He rests his hands on each of Tubbo’s shoulders and speaks in a sympathetic tone. “Tubs, I know it makes you upset, but I <em> need </em> to know precisely what happened. But first-” he pauses to draw Tubbo’s attention to the water and gapples. “You need to get your strength back, you’re tired. Eret already brought these back.”</p><p>Tubbo looks back at Phil and smiles sadly. “Thanks, dad.” he says with a sniffle.</p><p>“Of course, mate.” Phil stands up and grabs the food and drink, bringing them back to Tubbo’s bed. This time, he sits next to Tubbo on the bed itself, so he can lean onto Phil’s shoulder.</p><p>Tubbo quickly drinks the refreshing water and bites the apple. A certain glow appears to wash over his body. “There. Do you feel better?” Phil asks.</p><p>“Yeah,” Tubbo replies, “but um, could you hand me another bottle?”</p><p>Phil grabs a second bottle and hands it over, “No problem,” Tubbo gulps it down just as quickly, if not faster.</p><p>“Thanks. <em> Now </em> I feel better.” He lets out a dry laugh, and Phil smiles back.</p><p>His smile recedes however, as he carefully eases the question out. “I need to know what happened, Tubbo. Start from the beginning. You told everyone today you were visiting Sam, how is <em> Tommy </em> involved?” Phil was still struggling to believe his youngest son had done this to his best friend.</p><p>Tubbo wore a guilty face at the question. “I- I lied. I’m sorry, Phil. I never went to visit Sam. Dream, uh, talked to me yesterday, in L’Manburg,” Phil is barely able to hold back his angry scowl hearing the masked man’s name, “and he said that Tommy had reluctantly agreed to see visitors. Said Tommy really hasn’t been doing well in isolation—a-and it’s true, I-I saw him, oh he looked <em> awful</em>, Phil-” he looked as if he were about to cry again.</p><p>Phil leaned his son into his side once more, comforting him so he could continue. “I l-lied, about seeing him because I kn-<em>knew </em> that he wouldn’t be able to handle more than one visitor at a time. But I was wr-wrong, because he couldn’t handle one to- to begin with, his <em> best friend- </em>” Phil holds him close again, then releases.</p><p>Tubbo continues calmly but quietly, “Dream gave me directions through the Nether, and that’s why I said I was visiting Sam, they both go through the Nether. The directions are pretty hard to follow, you would not notice them otherwise.”</p><p>Tubbo held back tears when he had to remember the events that followed. “Then, I, uh, got to the portal to Logsteadshire—that’s what he calls his n-new <em> home</em>-”</p><p>He pressed his hands against his eyes for a few seconds, let out a shaky breath, and continued. Phil was holding him close the whole time. “Tommy looked <em> terrible</em>, dad. His t-shirt is in tatters, his pants are ruined, and he has bandages completely covering his arms and legs, as well. Bandages around his eyes, too. Said it was some sort of eye infection.”</p><p>“A-and, and,” Tubbo was so distraught now, he had to lean into Phil just to get the words out at all. “And when he noticed me first, he- he was so a-<em> angry </em> , like he had only let me v-visit him so he could- he could- could <em> chew m-me up</em>, a-and <em> s-spit me out</em>-” he took a second to dry sob into Phil’s shoulder. Thinking of that analogy clearly took a lot out of the poor boy.</p><p>“I was s-so, <em> afraid </em> of Tommy, dad. He was so <em> loud</em>, I-I mean, of course he was, he’s always loud, but this was different. This was- was, <em> spiteful</em>. He had only gotten <em> m-more </em> upset about the e-e-exile in the last month, and he said, he said- he <em> said</em>-”</p><p>Tubbo went back to sobbing in his father’s shoulder. “<em>He said the </em> discs <em> were better friends than I was! </em>” Tubbo loudly cried out between sobs.</p><p>Phil’s face blanched at hearing that. He <em> really </em> didn’t believe Tommy would ever say something like that, but Tubbo’s state was proof that he did. Of course the discs were precious to Tommy, but Tubbo was literally the most important thing in Tommy’s life! That had been obvious ever since they were little kids, one never went <em> anywhere </em> without the other close behind.</p><p>But Phil was smart, he could look past the grief he felt for Tommy and Tubbo both to see that something was very wrong since the beginning.</p><p>He’s not going to bring it up until Tubbo’s done painfully reliving the trauma from only about five hours ago.</p><p>Tubbo's pained sobs started to dry up once more. He and Phil released each other tentatively, and Tubbo continued. “I-I tried to h-<em>hug him </em> , dad, and h-he, he p-<em>punched me! </em> T-Tommy fucking <em> punched me</em>, dad!” It hurt Phil deep down to hear that from Tubbo, even if he had been assuming that it was Tommy who had bruised him since he heard how angry his youngest son had gotten. Shouting about his assault hadn’t made Tubbo cry this time simply because of how <em> scared </em> it made him.</p><p>“A-and, he, he <em> screamed </em> at me to leave <em> forever</em>, dad, I-I thought he was going to <em> kill me! </em> He hadn’t even been that angry at <em> Dream </em> before their duel!” Phil knew all about the duel.</p><p>“So, I r-ran away, as fast as I- as I could, for the p-portal, and I- <em> and-</em>” Phil saw a look of terrible realization spread across Tubbo’s face, morphing into a curled frown and scrunched eyes.</p><p>“<em>I never got to give him my </em> <b> <em>gift!!</em> </b>” he cries, painful tears washing his eyes.</p><p>Tubbo immediately turned and buried his face into Phil’s shoulder like he had just woken up again, but this time he was <em> bawling </em> loudly, shoulders and chest shaking violently with each shuddering breath he took.</p><p>Phil started to cry too.</p>
<hr/><p>It’s raining.</p><p>Some time ago, Tommy didn’t care how long, the sky had opened up to pour water on his lifeless, yet still living, body. Of course, it had been getting cloudy over time, but the limp boy hadn’t bothered to notice, not until he felt water droplets on his body. </p><p>He listens to the rain. <em> Reminds me of my exile</em>, he thought. At least he still possessed the effort to think.</p><p>Toy is laying completely still in It's white bed, eyes still blinded with gauze, under the one sheet that barely provided warmth. The thin cloth left It cold, but that doesn’t matter.</p><p>Nothing does, not anymore.</p><p>Dream had moved Toy to the bed shortly after the first droplets fell. Of course, he hadn’t picked him up and carried him to the bed, tucking him in, like Phil used to do when he was younger and had passed out on the couch after a long night. That would feel nice. No, Toy had been moved over to Tnret, since Tommy was perfectly content with laying down on the muddy dirt in exactly the same position he had fallen into after Tubbo left. Dream probably thought that laying in the wet grass would raise too many red flags, just in case Tubbo had gone to get help, or something. Maybe Dream just didn’t want him to die of hypothermia or anything like that.</p><p>Tommy certainly <em> does </em> want to die of hypothermia, to die of anything. It would be a much more forgiving fate than the one It found itself locked into right now.</p><p>He had begun to think like that a few days into his exile, before Ghostbur gave him the compass, now forever out of reach, before Dream’s new toy had been forcibly introduced into and quickly became It's life.</p><p>There were numerous opportunities for Tommy to end both his and Toy’s lives, the Nether portal was always present, and once Dream’s true intentions became known, Tommy put the pieces together. It was never really Tubbo that had exiled him, it was Dream. Dream’s will had been twisted into Tubbo’s words, and knowing that gave him immense comfort and solace.</p><p>Tubbo was innocent.</p><p>Tommy had refused the temptation of death, his newfound hope of someday returning to Tubbo had kept him going.</p><p>Tommy scoffed, a mere instinct by now, at the thought. <em> Yeah. Hope. </em></p><p>He didn’t have the effort to get up off the grass, didn’t have the will to move himself, didn’t have the energy to stand, didn’t have the strength to fight back.</p><p>Doesn’t have the hope to keep going.</p><p>Tommy doesn’t have anything.</p><p>Dream has everything.</p><p>Tommy tries to cry.</p><p>It can’t.</p>
<hr/><p>It takes a solid five minutes for Tubbo to calm down and for Phil to start picking apart his son’s tearful retelling of his traumatic experience with Tommy, all the while Phil’s person absorbing tears like Ghostbur’s blue.</p><p>“Tubbo,” he starts. The boy looks up at him slowly.</p><p>“Yeah?” Tubbo responds sadly.</p><p>Phil talks with a steady voice and a comforting tone. “You said Tommy was blinded, but he had noticed you first.” Tubbo’s mouth opens and eyes squint in thought before Phil continues. “Please, Tubs, tell me exactly what happened when Tommy first saw you.”</p><p>Tubbo spoke slowly and methodically, making sure he said precisely what he meant before saying it. “Well, I was looking around Logsteadshire... the land is beautiful, by the way, I’d love to live in a place like that someday,” Phil smiled warmly, “and, and I hadn’t said anything yet, but then he cleared his throat to get my attention! Do you think something’s up?”</p><p>Phil nodded once. “I do, and I think you see it too. Is it possible Tommy just heard the sound of the portal when you stepped through?”</p><p>Tubbo looked down in thought again, somewhat saddened by the thought. “Oh... yeah, that’s, that’s probably it...”</p><p>Before Phil could ask him to continue, Tubbo seemed to read his thoughts and kept speaking. His shot back shot back up with wide eyes. “No, wait! When he got my attention, and I looked at him... he was looking back at me! He looked at me, dad! He was blinded and he still looked <em> right </em> at me!”</p><p>Tubbo’s smile was beaming, a smile Phil recognized after so many years seeing him grow up. He looked like he might cry again, but this time they would be tears of joy. He was practically bouncing when he exclaimed, “Phil! Phil, do you know what this means? He <em> could </em> see me! Someone did this to him, Tommy is still <em> in </em> there, somewhere!”</p><p>Phil had a hunch on who that someone was.</p><p>His son wrapped his arms around his father, leaning in for a hug of pure elation. “Thanks, dad. I never would’ve thought of that if it weren’t for you.”</p><p>Phil’s smile was bright as well. “Of course, mate. Even if it doesn't feel like it, I’m always there for you, and Tommy too. The <em> real </em> Tommy.”</p><p>The hug released, and Phil continued. “But, I’m not about to let you go through the Nether again. Write down the directions for me, I’ll go see him straight away.”</p><p>“<em>Without </em> telling Dream.” he added, unable to completely hide his disdain for the masked man.</p><p>Tubbo looked unnerved by that, but he still nodded, asking for a piece of paper and a feather quill.</p><p>—o—</p><p>Philza looks ahead at the empty expanse of netherrack in front of him, then back down to a piece of paper he had retrieved from his inventory.</p><p>Back up at the hellish landscape, back down at the ink on the paper.</p><p>“Huh. Are these directions correct?” he muttered to nobody but himself.</p><p>Phil turned around, gazing off into the distance at the landmarks he had walked on or past as he read them down the list. He spotted the elegant Nether hub, the flattened basalt delta, the winding cobblestone bridge, and the raised island of netherrack he was standing on, but no precarious staircase.</p><p>Confirming his route only served to make him more worried.</p><p>Down at the paper, back up at the landscape. It didn’t make sense.</p><p>
  <em> Where’s the portal? </em>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>phil: *tries to walk through the missing portal* “tubbo?”<br/>tubbo: “what?”<br/>“wheres the nether portal?”<br/>“its right there, see, i drew it with magic marker” *points to the black square on the paper*<br/>“you were supposed to build it with the <em>obsidian</em>”</p><p>also guess who got more sweet-tarts :)</p><p>Drake &amp; Josh memes aside, this is just one of those chapters that somehow had very little planning and direction, but somehow turned out to be one of the better ones, I think. It’s a real emotional rollercoaster, that’s for sure. I know this sounds kinda fucked up, but the Tommy bit was mostly self-indulgent, I just think that the dehumanization aspect is really interesting to write. In fact, that’s the reason I loved the canon exile arc so much, it was just so enthralling to see Tommy rp with a completely opposite mood than normal, and was actually disappointed when he eventually escaped.</p><p>As always, thank you for the continued support on my fic! I’m trying to upload this early tomorrow instead of late at night to see if it gets more  c l i c k s.<br/>I have some plans for the near future! Next two to three chapters are gonna have Phil finding his way to Tommy, Phil <em>and</em> Tubbo finding Tommy (ghostbur might tag along, he seems fun to write), more Dream backstory, and... Technoblade! I have some big plans for Techno in this story, down the line. I’m still trying to fit the l’manburg cabinet somewhere in this story that doesn’t seem forced, as well. Eret wasn’t exactly planned to be here, but him showing up just felt natural.</p><p>edit: hoo boy updating this early in the day did not work</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0008"><h2>8. Take Two</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>After the failed first attempt, Phil organizes an encore of Tommy's rescue. Unfortunately, now they're on Dream's stage.</p><p>oh, and ranboo shows up. pog!</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>ladies and gentlemen, welcome to The Happy Chapter™</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Tubbo was still in the infirmary’s bed, waiting for Phil to return. He had hoped his father would bring back Tommy himself, but he knew he would return with new information, at least. It was a little over two hours since he left, and the sun was getting low in the sky.</p><p>Shortly after Phil had left, Eret prepared a dinner for Tubbo, consisting of a few slices of steak, one baked potato, and a slice of pumpkin pie drizzled in honey. It was delicious, but the pie in particular was mouth-watering, and tasted even better. He’d have to ask him for the recipe some time, it wasn’t quite the same as an ordinary pumpkin pie.</p><p>Once dinner was finished, Eret asked him if he wanted to allow visitors to the little infirmary. He agreed, and recited the message he wanted Eret to type into the global tab of his communicator. Tubbo wasn’t about to attempt to type out a coherent message if he didn’t have to. The boy was physically fine by now, and he still sat on the bed simply because it was comfortable.</p><p>Only Ranboo had answered the message, but that was just fine with Tubbo. The enderman hybrid had quickly become one of his best friends in the relatively short time since he had shown up in the SMP with very little to his name, memories the least of all. Besides, he didn’t want the whole L’Manburgian cabinet here and not looking after the country, and Ranboo’s job as a stenographer gave him much more free time than Quackity as vice president or Fundy as secretary of state.</p><p>The suit-wearing hybrid was right around the same age as the president, but was a good foot and a half taller than him. It was quite jarring, really. He had to slightly duck under practically every doorway in the SMP, the only one built tall enough for him was his own house.</p><p>They had sat there for a little over an hour, talking about nothing. They were having fun, laughing at jokes, and Eret was there, too. Right now, they were only friends. There were no presidents, no kings, no responsibilities, only friends. Even if Eret and Ranboo barely knew each other, that wouldn’t stop them. Ranboo would eventually be friends with practically everyone he interacted with, anyway. Tubbo saw his kind heart and innate innocence derived from a lack of memory. Nobody could stay mad at him for very long.</p><p>The bonding session continued until Phil had returned.</p><p>“Tubbo? Are these- oh, hey Ranboo,” he says, noticing the monochromatic teen, while regaining his posture.</p><p>“Hello Philza.” Ranboo responds stiffly, looking a bit startled. He knows Phil a good bit already, so he wasn’t often nervous around him, but his natural response got the better of him when Phil had nearly barged into the room.</p><p>Phil returns a warm smile. He saw so much of his sons in the tall boy, a combination of somewhere between Tubbo and Wilbur. “Please, call me Phil.”</p><p>Ranboo awkwardly nods once, Eret turning his lips in a longing smirk. Removing the -za from the name was a privilege only given to Phil’s family and those he trusted completely. Eret had lost that privilege when he betrayed L’Manburg while literally every other member of the revolution was a part of his family. He wasn’t too broken up about it, they still had an amicable friendship between each other.</p><p>Phil calmly turns his attention back to Tubbo. “Tubbo, please. I don’t doubt you, but I need to check these directions,” He holds up the piece of paper. “to make sure they are accurate.”</p><p>Phil hopes that Tubbo simply wrote them down incorrectly, given his dyslexia. It was a perfectly reasonable explanation, all things considered.</p><p>“S-sure, here’s my communicator.” He grabs the handheld device and passes it to Phil, who quickly accepts it and begins cross-referencing it with his piece of paper.</p><p>He checks the communicator. Basalt delta, cobblestone bridge, netherrack staircase. It’s all correct. </p><p>He checks it again, this time verifying each landmark individually. It’s still correct.</p><p>Phil plants a worried expression on his face and looks back at Tubbo. “There’s a... problem.” He says, carefully picking his words.</p><p>“What? What’s wrong, is- is Tommy alright?” Tubbo lets his words fall out. He had started to get uneasy when Phil returned and hurriedly asked for his communicator, but hearing that there was a problem had put him squarely in anxiety. His mind starts racing with new questions to ask his father.</p><p>Phil quickly sits down on the bed next to Tubbo, hand on his shoulder. That makes him even more worried, like he knew what he said next would require comforting.</p><p>Phil spoke with as much calm as he could muster, though his face still showed agitation. “Tubbo,” he starts slowly, “The Nether portal is gone.”</p><p>Tubbo’s eyes widen and jaw opens in shock. “<em>What? </em>” His voice is only just above a whisper, but he’s firmly in panic mode now. “What do you mean, there’s no portal? I went through it <em> today.</em>”</p><p>Phil soothes him a bit before responding. “It means, I followed the directions you gave me to the letter, and when I got to the Nether rack staircase, it just wasn’t there. I towered up to get a better view and the closest portal was on the complete other side of a lava lake.”</p><p>Tubbo looked down and muttered to himself in shock. “Tubbo, look at me.” He goes silent and looks back up at Phil, who has both arms on Tubbo’s shoulders now. “The portal is gone. Someone destroyed the portal. <em> Dream </em> destroyed the portal.” He couldn’t help but scowl at the name.</p><p>Tubbo felt the warmth leave his face once he heard those words. “Wha- what? <em> Dream </em> did this? How do you know? Did you see him?” Tubbo rasped, his voice much more exasperated than he meant it to be.</p><p>“Well, no. <em> But</em>, just think about it. It was either him or Tommy. If Tommy was in trouble, why would he destroy the easiest method of transportation? Tubbo, I’m telling you, that man is up to no good. I can just <em> feel </em> it.” Phil answered forcefully.</p><p>Tubbo has no choice but to believe his father. The man was very rarely wrong, and Tubbo’s thoughts are in a whirlwind, barely able to put them together. “I- I believe you, Dad.” he says, gathering up the conviction in his voice.</p><p>“Good. The problem is, I don’t know how to get there in the Overworld, and the only other man who’s been there probably doesn’t remember the route,” Phil says, somewhat defeated.</p><p>Tubbo’s face quickly lights up. “I do! I have a compass watch, Ghostbur gave it to me! It points directly to Tommy!” He rolls up his sleeve slightly and gingerly unstraps the watch, handing it to Phil and allowing him to study the soft glowing compass inlaid in the leather.</p><p>It’s Phil’s eyes that widen this time, brows furrowing slightly. “Tubbo. How long have you had this?” he asks sternly, almost angrily, but the tone is enough to make Tubbo flinch in guilt. Just another thing to feel guilty about, like he didn’t have enough of the feeling already.</p><p>“I’m sorry, it’s just- I’ve had it since four days after exile. You can i-imagine just how <em> precious </em> that is to me, I really haven’t told a-anyone about it. Too scared to, uh, to trust anyone with it. I’m sorry.” he apologizes meekly, shrinking in on himself a bit.</p><p>Phil’s face changes into his signature dad smile. “Aww, mate... I’m the one who should apologize. I understand exactly how you feel.” They hug each other.</p><p>“Thanks Dad, really,” Tubbo says. Phil smiles and ruffles his hair a bit, causing him to recoil reflexively, but not try to push the hand away.</p><p>Phil stands up, ready to make a decree. “Then it’s settled, we’ll leave for Logsteadshire tomorrow. It’s too late to go today, and it’ll give us time to prepare.”</p><p>Then, for the first time since Phil had arrived, Ranboo speaks up. “I’m going, too.”</p><p>Phil, Tubbo, and even Eret all turn to him instantly, causing his eyes to widen slightly and step back. Tubbo had honestly forgotten the teen was in the room at all, and he assumed the rest of them did too.</p><p>Ranboo builds back up some confidence, and continues his speech. “I- uh, I told Tommy, the uh, day before exile, I told him that, I would be there. For him. And- and I know, I know I helped him, grief George’s house, and I’m sorry, but I had promised him that I would- I would <em> be </em> there for him, b-but I-”</p><p>Ranboo paused much longer that time, when he quickly gazed around the room, then turned his gaze downwards to the floor and let out a defeated sigh.</p><p>“I wasn’t. I... I wasn’t there for him. I was there, on the day he was exiled, but not there <em> for him. </em> I was too... <em> scared </em> to stand up for myself, to try to stop it. I made excuses for myself, too busy writing down the events of that day. Even now, I remember those memories myself, anyway! I was a... <em> coward.</em>” He looked utterly defeated, and it was self-inflicted. Tubbo knew exactly how that felt. A wave of sympathy washed over the too-young president.</p><p>But Ranboo looked back up, newfound determination in his heterochromatic eyes. “But I’m done being a coward, done feeling sorry for myself. I-I don’t know what’s happened to Tommy, and I don’t think you do either, but I know he needs me. Needs <em> us. </em> So, I’m coming with you, whether you like it or not.”</p><p>Suddenly, Tubbo starts clapping profusely. “Yeah, Ranboo! Woo!” he hollers.</p><p>Phil turns to look at the hybrid. He puts his hand over his heart, with an overdramatic heartfelt look on his face, saying “Aww, mate...” His expression shifts to thankfulness. “Well, who could say no to that?”</p><p>Eret gives a formal “Very inspirational, Ranboo.” as he tips his head towards the hybrid.</p><p>Ranboo slumps back in the chair he had stood up from, letting out a sigh of relief and the tension he had built up in his tall frame. “Thanks, guys. <em> Man, </em>that one really took a lot outta me.”</p><p>Everyone in the room started laughing heartily.</p>
<hr/><p>“Alright men, do you know the plan?” Phil asks sternly, drawing out the A for effect.</p><p>He was returned with a resounding “Yes, sir!” and a mock salute from both Tubbo and Ranboo. Naturally, Eret wanted to go too, but he agreed to stay behind. The king still had a castle to look after, and Tommy still fiercely held a grudge against Eret for his role in the revolution. Tubbo continues firmly, “<em>Operation: Save Tommy </em> is a go!” he chanted with a cheeky grin on his face.</p><p>Tubbo’s personality never failed to put a warm smile through Phil. Even in a time like this, where they were fairly certain they were going up against Dream, and with that came certain danger, his second-youngest always found the time to have fun wherever he could find it.</p><p>Ranboo, on the other hand, almost looks like his armor is about to shake off his body.</p><p>To their credit, the plan was fairly comprehensive. Everyone brought a weapon of their choice, Ranboo and Phil both brought their respective glowing netherite swords. Tubbo had a standard oak bow, enchanted with Infinity among other very high level enchants, and a single arrow.</p><p>Ranboo and Phil also both had their own personalized sets of full netherite armor, fully enchanted as well. Phil’s armor was functionally identical to standard armor, but the design was drastically different. Instead of the regular sheet of metal adhered to the chest with straps, he had a full chestplate that completely covered his torso from all sides, along with two pauldrons, and simple strapped elbow and wrist guards. The rest of the set was shaped ordinarily. The most striking difference, however, was that his armor had small diamond accents on various parts of the set, from head to toe. It was a purely aesthetic choice, Phil was someone who always aspired to be both fashionable and functional.</p><p>Ranboo’s armor, on the other hand, is vastly different from regular armor. The design itself was similar enough to standard armor, but what Ranboo had was a veritable <em> diving suit </em>. The black, glowing metal was sewed onto what appeared to be a kind of wetsuit, and as such, didn’t require straps. The suit clung to the tall teen’s entire body below his neck, and the helmet normally had a clear visor which fit snug within the open space of the metal, however Ranboo had decided not to include it. Phil couldn’t even begin to consider how expensive such an intricate suit would be, let alone the kinds of materials it required. He assumed the stretchy material had something to do with slimes or slimeballs, that was the only substance that came to mind which had any kind of elastic properties.</p><p>Tubbo only brought a simple strapped netherite chestplate and standard leggings, made with the ingots Phil had mined himself the day prior. However, Tubbo wouldn’t be wearing them to Logsteadshire, he merely kept them tucked away in his inventory for emergency use. He traveled light, as to not give any reason for Dream to believe something was up when he would be the diversion. He had been designated to bring a pack for the inventory space, filled with basic supplies like food, water, crafting materials, and blocks; as well as combat items like ender pearls, golden apples, shields and even a few turtle master potions, all of which would be handed out to the rest of the group once they reached their destination.</p><p>Phil had estimated the Overworld trip, based on the time it took to traverse the Nether, to be about ten hours long. The vast majority of the distance was across a sizable ocean, so they each had a boat.</p><p>Tubbo had described the layout of the area to each of them. The plan began by settling the boats on the shore, just outside the little inlet that was outlined by beaches on nearly every side.</p><p>First up was Ranboo. He would use his hybrid genetics to their advantage, having some of the properties of a nighttime mob allowed him to blend in much easier, so he would scout ahead. Unfortunately, his distinct, glowing eyes made him much less stealthy, but they also granted him much better night vision than his two human teammates. He would quietly survey the area for anybody or anything that was out of place or could pose a threat.</p><p>Dream, in particular, was that threat.</p><p>Ranboo was not to interact with anything he found, though. That was Tubbo’s role. He would be the lookout, closely scanning the area for anything that moved or gave off light, and warn the rest about it. If Dream was indeed present at the site, like they were assuming he would be, Tubbo had the responsibility of distracting him and keeping him busy just long enough that the others could extract Tommy and bring him to safety.</p><p>While Ranboo and Tubbo were busy with their respective tasks, Phil would enter the tent and carefully retrieve Tommy. If anything went wrong, it was up to him to think on his feet for a quick solution, and thankfully, neither of his comrades doubted his ability to do just that. They were even prepared to knock Tommy out with weakness and slowness potions, just in case he resisted their attempts.</p><p>Each of the three rescuers hoped it wouldn’t come to that.</p>
<hr/><p>They’ve been on the water for around six hours now, valiantly following Tubbo’s compass which firmly points towards his best friend and biggest regret.</p><p>They were taking a break, helmets off, to eat the food he had packed for all of them, mostly in silence, when Tubbo spoke up.</p><p>“Hey, Ranboo-” he spoke between chews of his steak, before being cut off by Phil.</p><p>Ranboo looked up from his food, but Phil was the first to speak. “Tubbo, don’t talk with your mouth full.” he said in a calm tone with a twinge of reprimand.</p><p>Tubbo rolled his eyes softly. “Okay, <em> Dad</em>.” he said, annoyed, but he did wait until swallowing to speak up again. Phil chuckled softly.</p><p>Ranboo was attentive. “Ranboo, are you sure you still want to do this?” Tubbo asked politely, “It’s been hours, and you still look as anxious as you did when we left, and you’ve barely said a word. We would understand if you decided to turn back.” Phil nodded.</p><p>“Well, I-” he paused before swallowing his own food. “O-of course I’m nervous, we’re going to see Tommy, for the first time in almost...” he suddenly whips out his worn, leather-bound memory book, <em> Do not read </em> printed on the front, flipping through the pages like he has a thousand times before. The dexterity in his black fingers as he held the book in his white hand never ceased to impress Tubbo every time he saw the display of skill. </p><p>He continues, not putting the book away. “In almost a month. I-I mean, we’re going to <em> rescue </em> him, too! And uh, maybe even fight against- against <em> Dream</em>! Sure we’re prepared, but I’ve read the history books, multiple times. Even wrote some of the information in- in here,” He gestures with his memory book in hand. “And he has proven, time and t-time again, that he always wins. I’m uh, I’m, <em> terrified </em> of him.” The strong wavering in his voice proves that he tells the truth.</p><p>Tubbo looks down, sadly. “Yeah... I’m terrified of him too, deep down.” He looks back up at Ranboo with a big grin. “<em>But, </em> I’m not going to let that get me down! Think about it, we’re going to save Tommy! Your friend, my <em> best </em> friend, and his son!” he gestures at his father.</p><p>Tubbo stands up slowly on the boat for his next sentence. “And as Tommy would say, I’m not about to let that green <em> bitch </em> keep me knocked down!” he shouts with a fire of determination in his eyes, jabs his chest with his thumb when he says “me,” then plops back down on the boat.</p><p>He reverts to his usual self. “It’s my hope that keeps me going. Hope that we’ll find Tommy, that we’ll bring him back, and that we’ll help him heal from <em> whatever </em> happened to him.” He throws his hands in the air at the “whatever,” then smiles at Ranboo.</p><p>“You get it now, memory boy?” he adds the jab at the end, but it’s playful. The undesirable nickname is a term of endearment at this point.</p><p>The mostly-enderman minor looks reinvigorated, and Tubbo assumes his words did the trick. “Thanks, Tubbo. You’re right, let’s go save Tommy!” He pumps a fist in the air to top off his response.</p><p>Tubbo is filled with triumph at how well his speech worked. “That’s what I like to hear!” he cries, almost buzzing with energy. “Now come on, let’s eat. I wanna get a move on.” The excited boy uses his energy to quickly finish off his steak.</p><p>Phil leans over to Tubbo and pats his back a few times. “I’m so proud of you, Tubs.” he says, giving Tubbo a huge, prideful smile.</p><p>The trio quickly finish their now lukewarm steak and resume rowing to Logsteadshire.</p>
<hr/><p>Tommy feels like shit.</p><p>Actually... no, he doesn’t.</p><p>Shit is useful. From most farm mobs it was manure, and could be used as an all-natural fertilizer to help crops grow. Those crops are then, in turn, fed to the same mobs to get more shit and repeat the process. Increasing returns.</p><p>Tommy doesn’t feel like shit, because shit is useful, and he isn’t useful.</p><p>Something that’s useful doesn’t lay in the same bed for a full day, not moving a single muscle. And yet, here It is, doing just that. </p><p>He just wishes It could be useful.</p><p>It’s spent a month being used by Dream, and It felt useful back then, so why didn’t he feel useful now?</p><p><em> I hate Dream</em>, Tommy reminds himself. Repeating that phrase to himself was one of the only ways he stayed sane. He knew it was a fact, he did hate Dream, but he doesn’t actually feel that hate anymore. Sure, he could always say something like “I fucking hate that green prick,” but it won’t have any real meaning behind it, so what would be the point?</p><p>He barely hears soft footsteps outside Tnret, probably only because of how dead silent it was everywhere else. Tommy doesn’t pay attention to them, he was sure it was just Dream doing whatever it is that Dream does.</p><p>Being useful would definitely help take his mind off things. But no, laying lifeless in bed, staring up at the underside of Tnret's white canvas cloth, all It could do was think, let his mind wander to corners that the average mind shouldn’t have to wander.</p><p>Tommy thought about Tnret, how badly It envied them. They were useful, they kept the sun off It's face when he slept, kept the rain off It's skin when he used them for shelter.</p><p>He first came up with the name Tnret on the very first day of his exile. It was just a joke at first, a horrendous misspelling of the word ‘tent’, it was just fun to say.</p><p>But now, it was truly a name, an identity. A week or so after Toy arrived, Tommy had stoically decided to always call them by their name, never just ‘the tent’, or ‘my tent’. Tnret was useful, Tnret had an identity.</p><p>It was ironic, really. Tnret was an inanimate object, and they were granted a name. Tommy already had a name, but It was reduced to an inanimate object.</p><p>A useless one at that. An object that needed to be cared for, to be fed.</p><p>Tommy’s barely-present heartbeat starts to go a little faster. <em> Oh, god. </em> His mind starts to panic. <em> I’m not just useless, I’m a burden. </em></p><p>It needs to get useful, and fast. If Tommy wasn’t useful, if he was a <em> burden</em>, Dream was sure to grow bored of It and throw It away any day now.</p><p>He <em> really </em>doesn’t want to find out what getting thrown away would entail.</p><p>His slightly more alert state lets him hear the footsteps again.</p><p>Wait. Are those... two sets of footsteps?</p><p>Now Tommy is panicked <em> and </em>confused. One was definitely Dream, but there couldn’t be two Dreams... could there? Maybe it was a mob, but... Dream would’ve taken care of it by now, right? Surely Dream wouldn’t let any harm come to his favorite plaything.</p><p>Tommy hopes It’s still Dream’s favorite, but now he isn’t so sure. With the recent revelation of just how much of a burden It was, maybe Dream would just go get a new toy, one that wasn’t so...</p><p>Broken.</p><p>Tommy isn’t able to keep that train of thought going, because he’s startled by Tnret’s "door" flap opening suddenly.</p><p>What.</p><p>Dream <em> never </em> entered Tnret. Whoever- <em> what </em>ever just entered, it wasn’t Dream.</p><p>Tommy starts to panic even more until the figure quickly rushes to kneel down at the bed he laid in, then leans in close and whispers into his ear.</p><p>“Tommy, it’s me, Phil. Are you awake? We’re here to get you out.” the figure- Phil says quickly, like he had prepared it.</p><p>Tommy can barely process what’s going on. “Ph- Phil?” he asks quietly. His voice barely even exists, in any other situation it would look like he was just breathing.</p><p>The gears in his head, rusty and corroded, start to turn. “Dad...” Tommy whispers, like he only just now remembered Phil was his father. His voice is only slightly more audible than before.</p><p>“That’s right, Toms, it’s your father. Hang on, you’ll be safe soon.” Tommy can’t make out the tone, he’s too worried about what it means that his father is here.</p><p>The old, worn gears keep turning. Maybe Dream’s brand-new toy would be Tommy’s own father.</p><p>Phil starts to turn away from Tommy before he speaks up to stop him. “No, wait...” Phil stops, leaning back in to listen.</p><p>His voice feels grating against It's dry throat. “Dad, you... you shouldn’t... have, come here...”</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>my magnum o-poose</p><p>Not gonna lie I might have to tag this fic with 'BAMF Ranboo' lmao. This one is a whopping 4k words, when the previous longest ones were just over 3k, and most of them are around 2.5k. Things are really coming around, I fully reckon we're finally out of the setup now, and we're moving to the real meat of the story. Remember the endnotes on chapter 1? yeah fuck that, expect regular updates boys!</p><p>This chapter is all about the characters, setting up how they're feeling going into the following plot, so tell me if they could be more well written, from their mannerisms to just the way they react to things.<br/>Speaking of the following plot... I'm not so sure how it's gonna play out yet. I'll need to think about what should happen. I know where I want everyone to end up, just not necessarily the best way to get there.</p><p>one thing i can be proud of: have you guys noticed how sick my chapter titles have been? i'm honestly really proud of them</p><p>As always, thank you for the kind words in your comments and the clicks on your kudos. I'm starting to run out of ways to write this ending bit. pog through the pain. I think I want the next chapter to be a dream or techno character interlude. maybe both, who knows? I just start tapping keys and words come out! its kinda magic</p><p>edit: yes the next chapter is definitely dream and techno character interlude. i want to do brainstorm with someone, probably one of my betas, on exactly where i want the story to go, so the interlude will be a good padding for time while i come up with something.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0009"><h2>9. Of Ownership and Being Owned</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>The two duelists, on opposite sides of the arena, lead very different lives.</p><p>**author's note: the mr beast duel isn't actually canon here**</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>I have updated chapters 7 and 8! The end sections of Tommy Feels Sorry for Himself(TM) have been revamped. Now Tommy has a lot more It/It's pronouns and Tnret has a lot more they/them pronouns. Fun! :)</p><p>I also updated the summary on the fic as a whole, consider going back to chapter 1 and reading it</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Dream basks in the exquisite glow of his victory as he speaks the final phrase needed to enchant his finely crafted wooden sticks and Tommy-sock, forever linking them to TommyInnit, forever rebranding him as his own personal toy.</p><p>It was remarkably easy to get to this point. Dream just supposed that, after studying the members on the SMP that bore his namesake, it became natural for him to exploit each and every one of their weaknesses. Of course, some were more exploited than others, and none more than the weaknesses of the unconscious blonde boy laid out in front of him.</p><p>In the past, Dream had orchestrated practically everything that happened to Tommy, controlling his every action. Now, he would be controlling his every action in a much more literal way.</p><p>With the Manburg war over, both Schlatt and Wilbur dead, and Tubbo president, Dream knew it was only a matter of time. Ghostbur was actually something Dream did not expect, the books on supernatural entities were few and far between, and he didn’t consider them worth his time. Of course, that decision had proven to bite him in the ass.</p><p>It always seemed like, no matter how hard Dream tries to make everything go perfectly, there was always one little thing to go wrong, a wrench in his every plan.</p><p>Luckily, Dream was nothing if not a quick-thinker. He had proven it over the months by winning and getting his way in every war, every fight, every dispute, it was his for the taking.</p><p>And take it he did.</p><p>Dream knew Tommy. Dream probably knew Tommy better than anyone else on the SMP did, save for maybe Tubbo. He knew that the blonde teen could never let sleeping dogs lie. He knew that he always had to cause some sort of trouble, some sort of prank, some sort of fight. Dream knew it would culminate into a situation he would never be able to worm his way out of.</p><p>For any good plan, one needs some sort of bait. Something or someone who was close to Dream so he had a reason to retaliate.</p><p>George.</p><p>Dream’s former best friend had built the beginnings of a quaint house built into a small hill. The goggled-wearing adult (many people called him ‘Gogy’ for his eyewear, Dream thought the name was infantile) had made a number of enemies by failing to even show up at a large number of events on the SMP. The tipping point came when he used the biggest war waged so far, where virtually everyone had participated, to build a <em> house </em>.</p><p>The house, in concept only, was strikingly similar to Tommy’s dirt hut.</p><p>Dream still couldn’t comprehend what the child’s inane reasoning was for actually <em> reverting </em> his smooth stone construction back to dirt.</p><p>George’s house was simply a nicer version of Tommy’s. He knew the kid would feel challenged by that, that he simply couldn’t resist the temptation to assert the dominance of his house over others.</p><p>So, the bait was set. George’s house. However, Dream needed a more concrete reason to punish Tommy for tampering with the new home.</p><p>Luckily, there was an empty throne that needed a king. George was perfect for the position. Dream named him the new king of the SMP as soon as he could.</p><p>All of the pieces had fallen into place beautifully. It was perfect.</p><p>Tubbo couldn’t be there for Tommy, be his sounding board for idiotic ideas, and tone down those ideas when they got out of hand, he was too busy being the president. Wilbur couldn’t guide Tommy away from a stupid decision, he was too busy forgetting all his memories. Technoblade couldn’t be Tommy’s outlet to get angry at and make fun of, he was too busy being retired. Philza couldn’t be Tommy’s rock, to keep him grounded and protect him when he got in trouble, he was too busy trying to fix his relationship with the <em> rest </em> of their family.</p><p>Ranboo was the wild card, and he had only shown up at the SMP less than a week before helping Tommy grief George’s house. Fortunately, the tall teenager was so awkward that it was laughably easy to get him to do whatever you wanted, and he had indeed laughed multiple times at the fact.</p><p>—o—</p><p>It’s showtime.</p><p>Dream had just found out that George’s house was robbed and lightly damaged. Honestly, it was very minor, the front of the house could barely be considered vandalized. He wished Tommy did more damage, it would’ve made this that much easier, as the house was completely repaired within the day. It wasn’t an issue, however, Dream was quite the actor. He would simply make a mountain out of a molehill. He went to his “friends,” George and Sapnap, and riled them up about what had happened, saying how George was the king, and none of them could let him be walked over by the likes of TommyInnit.</p><p>It worked like a charm. The property damage they would’ve brushed off like it was nothing months ago now seemed like the first sign of yet another war.</p><p>Dream went to work building obsidian walls around L’Manburg. They needed to be squeezed, literally and figuratively, for all they were worth. Imposing, black walls looming over the entire country was the way to go.</p><p>Tubbo had rushed out of the white house in a panic, wearing his navy blue suit and gold tassels. He looked rather cute in the outfit that was meant to signify his prestige. He demanded to know what Dream was doing and why, but the only response the boy got was a curt, “I think you should ask Tommy.”</p><p>The situation only escalated from there. Tommy was put in the courthouse, and before long, couldn’t resist boasting about his accomplishments. His admittance got him sentenced to probation, where he would report to Fundy. That made Tommy angry in his classic Tommy way, and everyone found it rather funny despite the trend that Tommy and Tubbo were seemingly drifting apart as friends.</p><p>Dream found it funny for a very different reason. He knew exactly what he had in store for Tommy. His laughter turns into a devilish smirk, entirely hidden by his porcelain mask.</p><p>A few days later came a meeting between Dream and the L’Manburg cabinet. The meeting room was very well built, made out of blackstone and black stained glass, and Dream actually liked the style. He’d have to get a few pointers from Tubbo later.</p><p>At the meeting, Dream actually thought he could see the red anger radiating off of Tommy. He even egged him on with little side-looks and quips at the boy, just to set him spiraling off yet deeper into the grave Dream had dug for him.</p><p>In fact, Dream almost completely lost his cool after the meeting. While destroying the obsidian walls just to give them a false hope, the detestable child had riled him up so badly he almost blurted out that he would soon be bending to Dream’s will in the palm of his hand. Luckily, he bit his tongue back, and he settled for cursing Tommy out in the middle of everyone, shouting about how he had zero sentiments towards anything or anyone on the SMP, particularly the strip of leather that Tommy held, which used to be his horse around nine months ago.</p><p>Unfortunately, George and Sapnap had been within earshot when Dream declared his disdain for everything but the discs. He hadn’t planned for it, the words just popped out of his mouth, but in his defense, he was practically fuming at the time. His two former friends might’ve doubted Dream’s conviction then, but later, when George proved to be too big a target to remain as king of the SMP, the two friends knew exactly what kind of person Dream was.</p><p>His friends, his attachments, they were... a strange subject for Dream. He knew that there was indeed a time when he had genuinely cared about them. He didn’t know when it happened, maybe around the time Tommy joined, or the time L’Manburg was formed, but one day, something in his brain just... clicked. Overnight he had found that he had seemingly lost the ability to care for anything but power, control, <em> ownership. </em></p><p>Dream had instantly become a much better version of himself, much more refined, much more effective. A version that wasn’t bogged down with paltry feelings such as sympathy, affection, or even friendship. Sure, he still knew what those feelings were, and he would be able to bend and <em> use </em> them to further his goals, but they weren’t real, not anymore.</p><p>It was for that reason precisely that Dream felt no reservations whatsoever about outright demanding that Tubbo sent Tommy into exile, directly into his open arms. It was an ultimatum, to say the least. If the insolent child wasn’t banished from his home, Dream had vowed to build the obsidian walls higher and higher, hundreds of feet above the ground, and even build a solid roof of the same material. He would hire guards to patrol the walls, keeping anyone and everyone inside, with Punz and Sapnap keeping them in line. Dream knew that he had no friends anymore, but nevertheless they would work for him, given the right price.</p><p>L’Manburg would be completely encased in thick obsidian, with no hope of ever leaving. They would never be able to see the <em> sun </em> again.</p><p>Dream knew that Tubbo simply couldn’t let that happen. Besides, Tommy was being particularly insufferable recently. Dream was so full of a manic glee hearing the two boys argue. Tommy was truly scared of what might happen to him, an emotion which was very rare to see him display. Tubbo, too, was changing. His high-stress job as president had all but forced him to paint himself with a much more professional facade, and now it was presenting itself as a cold shoulder being given to his best friend.</p><p>Dream almost couldn’t believe how fucking <em> skilled </em> he was at manipulating the two teenagers. It would be so much easier very soon.</p><p>The conflict came to a head a few days later. Yet again, Dream was present, along with the cabinet and Tommy, atop the still short obsidian walls. Tommy would be exiled that day. The puppetmaster had tuned out the words they were shouting at each other, only listening to the harsh tones that neither of them naturally had like a symphony to his ears.</p><p>By the time that symphony was finished, him and Tommy were sailing to what would soon be named Logsteadshire, ghost of the boy’s brother joining them. Dream hadn’t expected Ghostbur to tag along, but he really didn’t mind. The man’s corporeal form was next to no threat to someone as powerful as Dream, and he wanted to see what would happen.</p><p>Tommy, hands tightly bound together with a rope Dream held, looked so incredibly dejected that one would assume his life had just ended.</p><p>It had.</p>
<hr/><p>Technoblade is a good person. Really, he is. No matter how little he showed it, he cared deeply for his family.</p><p>But he <em> had </em> to be distant.</p><p>He needed to isolate himself, because he was scared that he would <em> hurt </em> one of them.</p><p>He hated himself, what he had become, because he <em> did </em> hurt them. All of them, in fact.</p><p>It all started when Techno was a kid, barely thirteen years old. True to his name, he was an absolute prodigy in combat. By the time the curse had befallen him, he was already able to duel fairly with some people nearly twice his age.</p><p>That skill led to arrogance, and his arrogant nature was what got him in trouble in the first place.</p><p>He was out exploring the woods one day, coming across a hut in a swamp. The teenaged human knew there was bound to be a witch residing within, and one he could steal from for her magic potions and brewing materials. They were annoying, but not really dangerous, merely flinging potions to debilitate their enemies every so often.</p><p>Unfortunately, upon barging into the hut, it was no witch. What turned around to face him was a wizard, a warlock, something like that. Was there a difference? Techno knew little about magic, only what it was and what it did, definitely not the types of magic-wielders.</p><p>However, Techno knew power, and this non-witch was a very old man, and boy, did he look powerful. The warlock knew of the kid, he was a pest. Constantly stealing magic supplies from anywhere he could, with zero regard for who he was stealing from.</p><p>The problem was that the man Techno had found was apparently very vindictive, borderline evil, and he had fully intended to teach the boy a lesson that would haunt him the rest of his life. Quickly subduing him with magic attacks which literally emanated straight from his fingers and staff, he laid a curse upon the boy for his continued crimes.</p><p>When Technoblade returned home, he was met with a slack-jawed, horror stricken expression from his father and twin brother. His younger brother gaped, simply shouting “Cool!”, and his adopted brother looked on with a face full of fascination and awe.</p><p>Techno had gone exploring that day as a human teenager, and had returned a pig. A Piglin, to be precise. An unnatural, bastardized version of a mob hybrid, which luckily was a relatively common sight in the society they lived in. There were sheep hybrids, wolf hybrids, bird hybrids, and even dolphin hybrids, all of varying degrees. It was significantly less common to see hybrids of hostile mobs, maybe the odd enderman or creeper hybrid. It was downright unheard of to see a mob hybrid of a creature from the <em> Nether, </em> and such an intimidating one at that.</p><p>He looked truly fearsome now. Techno’s entire skin had taken on a noticeably pinkish hue, and not like the shade of a blush, but his mop of hair had turned from brown to a much stronger shade of pink. His recently human face had permanently morphed into that of a hairless pig. His jaw distended slightly, just enough so that it made room for the small tusks, lower teeth turned weapons, which now protruded up from his lips on either side. His eyes remained mostly unchanged, still shaped humanly, however the color of their irises had shifted from a basic brown to a deep red, able to pierce the hearts of anyone or anything unfortunate to catch their gaze. Ears grew floppy and pointed, yet unable to be pointed directionally like the ears of most furred hybrids.</p><p>The rest of Technoblade’s body remained unchanged structurally, save for his hands and feet. Fingernails were replaced with small black caps that covered the whole fingertip, stopping right before the first joint, like ten tiny hooves spread across his extremities. He had thanked whatever god or gods that were listening once he found out the new features still allowed him to hold a sword properly. His feet were completely alien, turned into slim appendages which narrowed at the toes to become two independently moving halves of one hoove. His new feet actually made him a good deal faster and taller, now boasting about an inch over Wilbur where they were previously the same height.</p><p>Fortunately, the curse placed on Technoblade had apparently altered his mind slightly, allowing him to feel at home accustomed to his new hybridized body over time. Of course he knew that it wasn’t his normal body, that it was unusual, it wasn’t <em> his, </em> but it was his now. It felt just fine at a base level, like he could get used to it, and he did.</p><p>The true curse revealed itself over the following few days. He could <em> not </em> get used to the voices that now invaded his mind.</p><p>It started out as one voice, relatively quiet, and slowly but surely, more and more joined in on the conversation over the years, creating a cacophony of words which disturbed  him during every waking moment he had.</p><p>The voices had varying personalities, some brash, some bold, some wise, some like a hyperactive child. But at the end of the day, they all wanted one thing:</p><p>Violence. Death. <em> Blood. </em></p><p>The voices would not stop until they had turned Technoblade into a machine, built for nothing but the desire of war and glory and slaughter. They were just as wicked and spiteful as the vindictive warlock who magically injected them into his brain.</p><p>In a few weeks’ time, the voices became too much to bear. Techno was terrified that the demands would escalate to the point where he put his family in danger. He <em> had </em> to satisfy them, for the sake of his loved ones’ safety. He has to spill blood for them.</p><p>Technoblade had tried his own blood first.</p><p>He remembers standing in front of the mirror of the bathroom, looking down at his left arm. His wrist was seeping crimson into the drain of the crude metal sink from a cut running perpendicular to his bone (he knew a cut running parallel would have a much worse outcome, and he wasn’t that desperate yet), while holding a kitchen knife in his right hand, the sharp edge stained an equally red color.</p><p>He remembers feeling the anguish when he realized the voices got <em> louder </em> in response to his little stunt. They were furious that Techno had tried to fool them with his own blood, lashing out, perverting his thoughts. They demanded the blood of others.</p><p>Techno woefully regretted being such a skilled swordfighter.</p><p>—o—</p><p>
  <span class="technochat"> art of war again?? what the fuck. haven’t you read it enough. i get that we like the bloodshed but come on. read another shitting book techno. you can’t learn anything new from the same book. oh what the hell WHY is he reading this again. go out and kill your fuckin’ horse or something techno we want blood. YEAHHH, BLOOD!!</span><span class="technoblood"> BLOOD! BLOOD! BLOOD FOR OUR GOD!! BLOOD FOR THE BLOOD GOD!!</span>
</p><p>“Shut up, Chat.”</p><p>Sitting in his favorite chair, Technoblade sips his coffee and starts to read <em> The Art of War. </em> He’s “retired” now, but all that really means is that he went into self-imposed isolation in the middle of the frozen north. His new location seemed to quell Chat, Techno had mused that maybe the frigid temperatures made them numb.</p><p>He knew exactly why he was here, all by himself. Well, not by himself, per se. He had Phil, his caring, compassionate father, the only person he told what he was doing and where he was going, and he would visit a few days every week. Ever since the... incident, over a decade ago, he and Phil had become closer than ever before. Techno knew that he could only tell Phil about the so-named chatter in his thoughts, he would understand, be there for him.</p><p>His brothers, no matter how badly he wanted to tell them, couldn’t know. Techno wouldn’t be able to bear the looks of fear they would surely give him if they knew he had a constant and crushing need to slaughter anything that breathed, be it people or animals, simply to suppress Chat’s demands of carnage.</p><p>Animals were vastly preferable to people.</p><p>However, years after he had been cursed, his tally of livestock kills—yes, he kept records of that, it kept him grounded in the reality of it all, let him analyze trends—were growing more and more each week. Soon enough, animals were simply not enough for them.</p><p>The development granted Techno more terror in his soul than he thought he’d ever experience. He expected it to happen eventually, ever since he killed his first chicken to settle Chat, but when ‘eventually’ came around, it still shook him to his core. He had to kill <em> people </em> now. His family is people. </p><p>If his brothers were to playfully tease him, or not so playfully in Tommy’s case, and Phil wasn’t there to stop them before it got out of hand? Techno could potentially fly into an animalistic rage and hurt them, <em> kill </em> them.</p><p>Chat begins to attack him again at the thought of killing those he held most dear.</p><p class="technochat">
  would that really be such a bad thing? no. definitely not. nope. they betrayed you anyway. trueee! still pissed we didn’t get to kill wilbur. ’s fine, we got tubbo. damn right we did. hey “blade” go kill tubbo again. YEAH DEATH LE’S GOO!! man’s the president now. yeah techno what the fuck happened to anarchy? gonna let their little government go free? the little shit’s on his last puny life. it would be a mercy.
</p><p>Techno ignores Chat’s incessant demands, forcibly dragging his own thoughts back to the forefront. Learning to prevent murdering his own family. Right.</p><p>He had to learn to stay away from them, starting with emotionally. <em> Keep yourself distant </em> was his mantra of choice, repeating it to himself whenever he found himself longing for affection. If he wanted affection, he would go to Phil, he understood the danger. He had to develop a thicker skin, not let anything get to him, not let anyone get too close.</p><p>In a different time, he would’ve chuckled at his own joke. He literally had developed a thicker skin, a discovery from the difficulty he had with the knife during the fateful first incident in the bathroom.</p><p>It wasn’t hard for Techno to change his personality completely when he had voices in his head pushing him to kill and maim, they were extremely sobering. He spent more and more time practicing alone or with Phil, he didn’t dare practice with any of his brothers. Of course, Chat urged him to kill Phil virtually every time they would spar, and when it got too bad, he would call a time-out, and Phil would soothe him, his father’s sweet words slowly blocking out the malicious voices.</p><p>Over time, Techno got better and better at ignoring the voices, not letting them control his thoughts, not letting them use him, not letting them win.</p><p>Chat sees their opportunity once more.</p><p class="technochat">
  face it techno we own you. you’re like our bitch. HA! technobitch. you’re weak technobitch! ya get angry and lose yourself to us. well not physically weak surely? duh. we need to stay strong physically. bitch can’t get his fix if he can’t kill anyone.
</p><p>Their vulgarity was really just annoying. Once Techno had realized how much they cursed, he vowed to never use the same language himself. It was a coping mechanism to keep him distanced from Chat. If he didn’t do that, if he swore, he would be like Chat. They would win, they would own him.</p><p>He couldn’t allow that.</p><p>For his family.</p>
<hr/><p>“Oh, hello Ghostbur!” Tubbo said, peering behind Dream’s hoodie at the ghost that floated up behind him. He and Tubbo were discussing matters alone in the downtown square when the transparent man had come up behind him from the direction of Eret’s castle, completely silent. He would be a much more startling presence if his wispy voice wasn’t so soft and comforting.</p><p><span class="ghostbur">“Hi Tubbo! Hi Dream!”</span> Ghostbur responded with his voice’s usual ethereal chipperness. Dream turned around to face the spirit, ready to listen.</p><p>“What brings you here? I was just discussing some official L’Manburg matters with Dream. He just got finished taking down the walls, as well!”</p><p>That much was true, Dream had finished dismantling the huge black walls. Completing his end of the agreement meant that he finally had time to return to Logsteadshire and enchant his sticks on Tommy, which he planned to do tonight while the boy was asleep.</p><p><span class="ghostbur">“Yeah, I saw. L’Manburg looks so much better now.”</span> Ghostbur pauses briefly to collect his thoughts. <span class="ghostbur">“Uh... ah, yes! Tubbo, I have a gift for you! It’s <em>very special,</em> so I want this just to be something between you and me! Sorry, Dream. Here, I can give you this,”</span> he softly floats over to Dream, then taps his mask with one finger, between the painted eyes and mouth. <span class="ghostbur">“<em>Boop!</em>”</span></p><p>Dream flinches, taken aback by the sudden action. He still isn’t used to the ghost of Wilbur Soot’s childish personality, and still isn’t quite sure if he likes it or not.</p><p>“No problem Ghostbur, we were just finishing up here.” Dream replies simply. “I’ll leave you two to exchange gifts, talk to you later Tubbo.”</p><p>He had zero intention of allowing them to give gifts in secret.</p><p>“Alright. Bye, Dream!” Tubbo says with a wave.</p><p>Dream waves back silently as he walks away. However, when he’s sure that Tubbo and Ghostbur are out of earshot, he quickly ducks behind one of the booths in the plaza and watches them leave. They’re heading over to Ghostbur’s crane, where he built his hidden home into the walls of the sewer underneath it. It wasn’t an actual sewer, the phantom just decided to call it that for some reason.</p><p>Dream followed them in, using a pickaxe to slightly mine the stone walls of the room they were hiding in, so he could listen. The pickaxe was enchanted with Silk Touch, so the process was completely silent. What the president didn’t know wouldn’t hurt him. He mines deep enough to hear, putting an ear to the hole he made and focusing on the words.</p><p class="ghostbur">“...well Tubbo, I know how badly you miss Tommy while he’s on vacation, so I went and made you this.”</p><p>“Yeah, vacation... thank you, Ghostbur.” There’s a pause. “Is it a... watch?”</p><p class="ghostbur">“It’s a compass! I made a small one and smacked some leather around it! No matter where you are, it will always point to the compass that I made for Tommy.”</p><p>Dream frowns. Tommy has one too? He hasn’t visited the exiled boy yet today, but it sure didn’t <em> appear </em> that he had any precious items yesterday during his visit. Dream resumes listening.</p><p>“Oh, Wilbur...” his voice, however muffled, is clearly starting to quiver in sadness and affection.</p><p><span class="ghostbur">“Ghostbur,”</span> he corrected. <span class="ghostbur">“Turn it over, I made an inscription on the back!”</span> the transparent man said excitedly.</p><p>Dream hears a choked gasp, like someone was holding back sobs. It was probably Tubbo.</p><p>The teen leader reads the apparent inscription on the back, almost whispering. “‘Your Tommy’...” Tubbo sniffles, like he’s freely sobbing now. “Oh Ghostbur, you made me a compass that points to my Tommy! Thank you so much! I will cherish it for as long as I live. You have no idea how much this means to me.” His tone holds a sad affection and praise.</p><p>Dream is <em> furious. </em></p><p>His thoughts raged like a storm of hate in his heart. It takes every muscle in his body to not tear down the stone walls with his bare fucking hands and <em> gut </em> the son of a bitch for even considering that Tommy belonged to anyone but <em> him. </em></p><p>He scrambles madly up and out of the crane, violently rips an ender pearl from his inventory, and infuses the primal hatred he’s feeling to chuck the sphere as far as humanly possible in the direction of the nearest forest. He whips out his netherite axe and stands still for a second, feet planted far apart from each other, nostrils flaring like a raging bull.</p><p>The moment his pearl lands and he is transported to its location, Dream swiftly unlatches his mask and slams it down on the soft grass, then holds his axe in both hands and slams it down on the nearest tree to let out his rage.</p><p>He screams at the top of his lungs with every exertion on the tree, pausing between swings. “<em>TOMMY! BELONGS! <b>TO ME!!</b>” </em></p><p>The tree falls. He dashes over to the next one and keeps swinging. “<b><em>HE! IS MINE!! AND MINE ALONE!!</em> </b>”</p><p>That tree falls as well. On to the next one. “<em>NOBODY! ELSE! CAN HAVE HIM! </em> <b> <em>NOBODY!!</em> </b>”</p><p>That tree took one extra swing. “<b><em>HE! IS MY TOY!! ALL MINE!!</em> </b>”</p><p>Next one. “<b><em>MINE!! MINE!! MINE!! MINE!!</em> </b>”</p><p>Dream’s chants keep going like that until he finally calms down enough to form conscious thoughts. It takes about ten trees in total.</p><p>Once most of the earthly rage has left his system, he slams his axe down on the ground like he did his mask earlier.</p><p>He madly searches his inventory until he finds the plain brown sticks he made for his soon-to-be toy. Pushing away all the leftover hate for just a moment, he searches for the previous inscription and white-knuckle grips a knife in his other hand.</p><p>Dream’s grin is filled with the manic giddiness of an asylum patient. It’s actually <em> hurting </em> him to smile this harshly, and his unstable eyes feel a similar pain.</p><p>He takes the knife and, gathering up all the calm he can, forcefully etches a second word to the left end of the pre-existing markings.</p><p>When he finishes, Dream throws his head back and lets out a shrill, maniacal cackle, probably the loudest anyone had ever laughed, which lasts for a solid thirty seconds. The dreamonic wail can be heard from miles around, well into the ears of anyone wandering L’Manburg.</p><p>The sticks he plans to use tonight now sport a newly-carved “MY”, worked much deeper and rougher into the wood’s surface than the months-old “TO<strike>MM</strike>Y”, which sat adjacent to the fresh declaration.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>on this exciting episode of <em>Dream Fucking Loses It</em></p><p>guess who figured out how to use work skins?<br/>ME! LEZZ GOOO! *ignores that i had to delay this chapter a day to learn how to use work skins*</p><p>me last chapter: ah yes this is my longest chapter at slightly over 4k words and i am very proud of it<br/>me now: ah yes this is my longest chapter at slightly over 4.8k words and i am very proud of it</p><p>And that is it for the Dream backstory! You'll see no more of past Dream, only current Dream. However! I have more to talk about Technoblade, so you will see more of him and how he copes with having to be the <b>blade</b> of Pogtopia. *wink*<br/>I've bot big plans for him in the near future of this fic.<br/>No I do not know how I will get to those plans.</p><p>Also, Technoblade's Piglin features grow more prominent as he gets older. So when I say he had small tusks at 13 years old, he has very large tusks now at approx. 24 (remember, wilbur's twin, same age.) Techno also has fancy language, much like Dream, being an english major irl and all.</p><p>As always, input is appreciated no matter what that input is! Unless you're a dick about it! Don't be that! please!<br/>Next chapter is the one you've been waiting for: The aftermath of the rescue mission! Bad things happen! You <i>will not</i> like it! pog!</p><p><b>BONUS:</b> Story time!<br/>- I learned how to make links in html today :)<br/>- I was inspired by <a href="https://twitter.com/3HKowalski/status/1350861448130555907">this</a> fanart in particular to write this work! I saw it, and because it was so good, I looked at it a long time, remembered all those other fanarts where Dream had strings around everyone, and thought to myself "but what if it was literal?" and here we are.<br/>- Because of that inspiration, my very first idea for this story was that Tommy and Tubbo were <i>physically</i> shrunk down, and they had normal strings tied around their little wrists and ankles. They would be placed in a diorama of sorts, with a miniature L'manburg and Logsteadshire on two sides of a little river. They would be able to see themselves across the way and they would be sad that Dream would keep dragging them away from each other.<br/>- There's a new Dream theme based on his character on the SMP! I love it! I've decided to name it as the officially unofficial theme song of this work. You should absolutely listen to it even if you don't think it fits. <a href="https://youtu.be/khU2emzZwBg">Here it is!</a><br/>- You have probably already noticed, but this this fic is heavily inspired by <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/28238295/chapters/69196854">Rewind</a>! I didn't intend for that to happen, it just did. Go read it if you haven't already (you probably have) because it is incredible. This story has got the stronghold, mega-villain Dream, and Tommy becoming Dream's property in exile. The biggest inspiration is definitely the human enchantment plot point. I have used very similar colors and formatting here to Rewind simply because I love the impact they have that much. In fact, I actually asked the Anon that writes Rewind for help with formatting, (you think i know how ao3 works?? lol) so I'm perfectly fine with advertising their work here.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0010"><h2>10. Welcome Home</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>The three members of the rescue party find and are reunited with Tommy. The mainland, however, is beginning to get restless over their absence.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The boat settles against the shore. This is it.</p><p>Tubbo knows exactly what he needs to do, he’s gone over it many times with Phil and Ranboo. His job is to stay outside the tent and keep watch while Phil takes Tommy to safety. If Dream is present, it’s Tubbo’s job to distract him and keep him busy while Tommy gets rescued. Even if the masked man is asleep, (does he actually wear his mask while sleeping?) Tubbo still needs to watch over him in case he wakes up, <em> then </em> keep him busy. He’s the first line of defense. Knowing how likely it is that Dream is trying to prevent him from interacting with his best friend without their consent makes Tubbo worried.</p><p>Knowing that the same man is who he’s supposed to <em> distract </em> makes him panic anyways, makes him stiff with fear.</p><p>Tubbo’s brought back to reality when Phil puts his hand on his shoulder. “You okay, mate?” he asks quietly. “You’re almost shaking in your boots, Tubbo.”</p><p>“Yeah, I’m... f-fine.” Tubbo replies, weakly. Clear hesitation enters his voice.</p><p>He’s not fine. Phil must have noticed that he isn’t, because he doesn’t press the question any further. “Alright. But, Tubbo?” Phil pauses until Tubbo looks up at him. “I need you to focus. We all need to focus. This is <em> Tommy </em> we’re talking about.”</p><p>Tubbo gains a newfound confidence at the words. <em> Yeah. This is for Tommy. I’m saving Tommy. </em> He nods his head quickly, a determined look across his face.</p><p>“Good.” He turns to Ranboo. “Ranboo, if you will?”</p><p>The enderman hybrid closes his eyes and slows his breathing, and Tubbo can almost see the tension leave his body. The tall teenager focuses and calms his body, then his eyes—one red and one green—suddenly slam open. Tubbo almost lets out a yelp of surprise at how brightly they’re glowing now, but that might just be his own pupils dilating, adjusting to the darkness of night.</p><p>“On it.” Ranboo turns away from Tubbo and Phil, quickly and silently darting into the darkness to scope out Logsteadshire.</p><p>After what feels like an excruciatingly long minute, he returns with a relaxed smile on his face. “The coast- coast clear. There’s no one around. N-no one around the tent, at least.”</p><p>Phil replies quickly. “Good. Tubbo, you’re with me. Keep near the tent until Ranboo finishes his sweep. You both know what to do.”</p><p>Both boys swiftly nod once. Ranboo darts off into the area once more, and Tubbo follows directly behind Phil with long, rapid strides towards Tommy’s current residence, his white tent.</p><p>It <em> pains </em> Tubbo that he can’t be with Tommy, see his face, look him in his sharp blue eyes when he wakes up. But he has a job to do at this moment: be the lookout, keep watch, ensure Tommy’s safety. He can look at his best friend all he wants, when he’s safe in the boat and they’re rowing away from this accursed place.</p><p>He hears Phil talking to Tommy, but he doesn’t hear Tommy talking back. He gets nervous and starts fiddling with the hem of his shirt. <em> Why can’t I hear Tommy? Why is he so quiet? What happened to his voice? Oh, god- </em></p><p>Reality slams back into Tubbo once more when Ranboo comes up from behind, eyes glowing significantly less brightly, looking rather frazzled. “O-okay, so. Good news, and, er, bad news.” He’s obviously been shook by something, and he’s beating around the bush, but Tubbo just wishes the awkward enderman hybrid would spit it out. “Bad news... is, uh, well, <em> Dream </em> is here.” Ranboo’s quiet voice dropped even quieter, if that was possible, just saying the man’s name.</p><p>Tubbo’s face flushes a bit. He’d half expected Dream to be here, preventing them from taking Tommy back to L’Manburg, but hearing that he was here still scared him to no end. He gulped. “W-well? The good news?”</p><p>Ranboo almost looked surprised that he was even asked about it, but he recollected himself and broke the news to Tubbo. “Oh, well, he is... asleep! In- in that log campsite. Over there.” He points behind his shoulder at the striped enclosure. “He’s in a, uh, blue tent. Yeah.”</p><p>Tubbo let out some of the tension in his shoulders with a steady breath. “Okay. I’ll head over there and keep watch over Dream. You stay here and keep watch over Phil and Tommy.”</p><p>“Right.” Ranboo nods with conviction.</p><p>Tubbo runs over to the encampment, careful to make as little sound as possible, and peers inside the blue tent. Horror builds in the pit of his stomach, he’s actually watching Dream sleep. Apparently he does sleep with a mask on. The sight is incredibly unnerving. His painted face drills holes into Tubbo’s soul, like he never ceases to watch people, even while asleep.</p><p>He barely has time to collect his thoughts and questions when Ranboo comes back over to him, startling him with his touch on Tubbo’s shoulder due to the hybrid’s quiet footsteps. It didn’t help that his boots also had a Feather Falling IV enchant on them, silencing his footfalls even more.</p><p>Ranboo has calmed down significantly since the last time he spoke. “We have Tommy, it’s time to go,” he whispers to Tubbo.</p><p>The president allows his tall friend to lead him to Phil, to <em> Tommy- </em></p><p>He notices that Phil is carrying his son bridal-style. Was he unconscious? Did Phil have to put him under to get him to cooperate? Was he still asleep somehow? He couldn’t be asleep, Tubbo heard Phil converse with him, but didn’t necessarily hear Tommy’s voice. Either way, once Tubbo makes his way to Tommy’s side, all he can do is silently caress his best friend’s cheek in their father’s arms.</p><p>He missed Tommy so much that it pained him to think about it.</p><p>Phil allows Tubbo to give the boy a silent, gentle greeting. He isn’t wearing any bandages anymore, proving their theory that they were fake, possibly  unnecessary. That made Tubbo feel absolutely elated, he simply couldn’t wait to see his crystalline blue eyes again. Most people didn’t see what he saw in those eyes, he saw the fierce determination of a teenager who had lived and <em> thrived </em> through entirely too many wars at such a young age. </p><p>Sometimes, in times of stress, Tommy’s eyes would be a bit cloudy or dull, but that would never last very long. They looked their worst when the boys were in Pogtopia, living in the shadow of their older brother, taken by madness. After the Manburg war, it took most of a week for them to clear up completely, obviously due to the destruction of the country they held most dear, the death of Wilbur by his own hand, and the betrayal of Technoblade.</p><p>Tubbo could only hold Tommy for about five seconds until Phil urged them all to keep moving back to the boats and off to safety.</p><p>They didn’t make it very far.</p><p>The trio were barely a quarter of the way to the boat when each one of them was assaulted by a terrible, ear-piercing scream of primeval <em> pain </em> that sent each one of them reeling where they stood.</p><p>Realizing that the deafening cry came from <em> Tommy </em> had felt like a sucker-punch to the gut.</p><p>The sound ended as quickly as it started, and Tubbo is still in shock over the event when a voice calls out to them from behind.</p><p>“Now just where do you think you’re going?” the voice asks curiously, with a tone of condescension.</p><p>All three of them spin around to face whoever shouted at them.</p><p>Tubbo feels his face lose all color and his eyes widen massively at the sight in front of them.</p><p>Dream is standing before them triumphantly, with a bright lantern at his feet, holding some sort of stick with both hands, one on each end.</p><p>“Here’s what’s going to happen.” Dream’s voice is firm, laced with the cockiness of victory. “You three are going to come with me. I have a little space for you all to stay in. I’ll admit, I only expected to get <em> one </em> gift tonight-” his white mask looks straight at Tubbo when saying ‘one gift’ before returning to look at the group as a whole, “not three, so it will be a bit cramped.” Dream stifles a laugh, “I must have been such a good boy to be so <em> handsomely </em> rewarded.”</p><p>Tubbo can’t even <em> begin </em> to comprehend just what the hell that means before Phil pipes up, being the first to argue with the masked man. “And what if we refuse?” His voice is a low growl of hate. It had every right to be, standing in front of them was the very person who was refusing a father’s need to keep his son safe!</p><p>Dream tilts his head to the side and makes a dry chuckle. “Well if you refuse, then I’ll just break his legs!” he answers with sick excitement. Tubbo faintly hears Tommy let out a fearful whimper.</p><p>
  <em> What? </em>
</p><p>Tubbo is utterly confused, mentally sent reeling by the words he’s just heard. <em> How does he think he’s going to </em> break <em> Tommy’s legs? He’s all the way over there! Wait, did it have something to do with his scream just now? Is it that stick he’s holding? I guess it looks kinda special. </em></p><p>Tubbo’s brain is overriding his mouth, and the thoughts in a whirlwind in his mind prevent him from speaking.</p><p>Philza blanches for only a moment at the threat he hears from behind Dream’s perfectly smooth, polished face. In the next moment, he’s sent into a blind rage at the mere thought of someone hurting his lifeless child more than he obviously has already been.</p><p>“Dream, if you so much as <em> touch </em> a hair on his <em> fucking head I </em> <b> <em>will</em></b><em>-</em>” the father growls aggressively at the team’s foe. He’s unexpectedly cut off by the very man he’s threatening, who tips his head back and belts out a guttural laugh.</p><p>“You misunderstand me, <em> Phil,</em>” the addressed father scowls angrily at the nickname reserved only for family and close friends. <em> No, you don’t </em> <b> <em>get</em> </b> <em> to call me that you mother</em><b><em>fucker</em></b><em>-</em> “I don’t have to go anywhere near him! In fact, you carrying him is the most contact he’s had in a month!” Dream sounds like he’s trying to hide his glee under a frank tone.</p><p>Phil pales at that a second time. He glances down at his son once again, horrified. How bad <em> was </em> he? He couldn’t know, not really, he’s only seen Tommy for all of five minutes. There was next to no interaction in those five minutes, as his throat was too dry to allow him to speak clearly, and he had all but refused to get up on his own. In fact, the boy has been limp ever since Phil picked him up, not even so much as lifting a finger.</p><p>Well, other than when he was screaming like his life was about to end in the most painful way imaginable. Phil can’t help but consider that maybe it <em> was. </em></p><p>Dream sucks air through his teeth with a shrug, drawing Phil’s attention back to him. He repositions the stick he’s holding,  “Don’t believe me? <em> Allow me to demonstrate.</em>” After Dream ends his question, his tone instantly shifts from mock offense to sly and venomous, almost spitting the syllables out through his teeth. He holds the accessory in one hand, arm outstretched.</p><p>Phil starts, “What are you-” when his attention is drawn right back down to Tommy. His body tenses up all over, like every limb in his body had instantly responded to something, and his previously unnerved face suddenly falls into a calm smile as he lets out a tiny sigh of relief. The strange action is startling and very unnerving, his youngest child just had two separate and completely opposite reactions to- <em> something, </em> at the same time!</p><p>Then, with absolutely zero forewarning, Tommy pushes himself against Phil’s chest and out of his caring embrace. He lands on his feet perfectly and begins to a triumphant stride towards Dream. Once Tubbo notices Tommy is leaving them, he tries to reach out a hand to catch his best friend by the shoulder, but his reaction time is much too slow and he merely swats the air pathetically.</p><p>Once Tommy reaches Dream’s side, the taller man plants his free hand on the shrivelled boy’s shoulder and congratulates him. “Well done, my toy. You’ve been very useful to me tonight.” he says simply.</p><p>Tommy’s eyes instantly shoot open. Tubbo tries to squint, but still can’t <em> see his eyes it’s too dark he’s too far please just let me see- </em></p><p>Tommy manages to make a nervous smile and starts weakly muttering, mostly to himself or Dream. “U-use- ful? I’m... useful? To- to you?... Dream, I, thank- thank you. Thank you. I’m u-useful... thank you... useful...”</p><p>Tubbo can only stare at the scene in utter horror, with eyes that feel like they’re about to pop out of their sockets. He almost forgets to breathe multiple times, causing him to force a swallow of air down his throat periodically. He has so many thoughts and questions and worries in such a small body that he feels like he might explode.</p><p><em> What is Tommy doing?! Why is he taking Dream’s side!? How is he suddenly able to walk? I thought Phil had to carry him! Why is he holding those sticks? What is Tommy talking about, being useful, </em> thanking <em> Dream!? What does he </em> <b> <em>mean</em></b><em>, his toy?! </em> <b> <em>What the fuck is going on?!?</em> </b></p><p>Dream kneels down to Tommy’s level and resumes speaking to him like he <em> owns </em> him. “Now, Tommy, I want you to say hello to your new playmates! I think you’re going to get along <em> very </em> quickly.” His poisonous voice turns sweet like honey, and Tubbo cringes roughly when comparing Dream’s voice to one of his favorite foods, exactly mimicking the way a parent would introduce their kid to another parent’s kid, then send them both off together to have fun.</p><p><em> Nothing </em> about this is fun.</p><p>Dream waits a few seconds, until it’s obvious that Tommy isn’t going to be hearing his commands any time soon. He’s been continuously muttering ‘I’m useful’ and ‘thank you’ under his breath the entire time since the damaged blonde boy last opened his mouth, and the implications of that are positively terrifying.</p><p>Dream is standing up again. He leans his head back slightly, groans, and annoyedly grumbles “Looks like I have to do <em> everything </em> around here...” as he pulls out a colorful sock from his inventory.</p><p>Tubbo’s thoughts finally focus on the unimaginable reality that’s beginning to settle in his mind.</p><p>
  <em> Holy shit. That’s a sock puppet. A sock puppet that looks like Tommy. What the absolute fuck. </em>
</p><p>Tubbo can feel his knees start to buckle and give way, but he forces them into a locked position, keeping them upright, because <em> Dream is pushing up his mask to show his mouth and pulling the sock down over his hand with his teeth- </em></p><p>Dream is <em> wearing </em> a Tommy-esque <em> sock puppet. </em></p><p>Its <em> mouth </em> is being opened and closed by his hand.</p><p>
  <em> And Tommy is speaking. </em>
</p><p>It’s an upbeat, chipper tone. His voice sounds very similar to his normal happy and confident tone he’s deftly carried almost his whole life, but it’s different. Like it’s fake, like it’s practiced.</p><p>Like it’s someone doing an <em> impression </em> of Tommy’s real voice.</p><p>The... impersonation, turns to the green-clad smiling mask and happily says “Oh, Dream, really? <em> Three </em> new friends? You shouldn’t have!” Tommy turns on his heel back to the small crowd and clasps his hands together in excitement. “Hello everyone, and welcome to your new home! My name is Toy, it’s nice to meet you all! I have a feeling we’ll soon become the very best of friends!”</p><p>Everything clicks in an instant.</p><p>Tubbo’s sure his face is completely white by now.</p><p>He lets go, letting his knees scuff on the dirt as his legs finally give way. It’s all he can do to prevent fainting on the spot from an overload of every emotion in the book.</p><p>Using every bit of strength in his drained body, Tubbo pulls up a shaking hand to weakly point at Dream in disgust, terror, shock, anger... he points at Dream, unable to wrangle the raging bull that is his emotions.</p><p>“You- you’re, you’re... <em> controlling </em> Tommy...” he says, voice threatening to give out at any moment, between the herculean effort that is swallowing his fear deep enough to keep talking.</p><p>Tommy—yes, <em> Tommy, </em> Tubbo knows that, behind whatever Dream did to him, his best friend is still there—resumes talking, but now it’s painfully obvious that Dream is speaking for him. “Oh, and Tubbo wins the grand prize! Very good, you finally put the pieces together! Took you long enough.” Tommy, no, no, not Tommy, Dream talking <em> through </em> Tommy, whoever it is, is <em> mocking </em> Tubbo.</p><p>“Bu- but... <em> why? </em> Wha- what did- Tommy doesn’t, deserve <em> this</em>...” he sputters out with a pathetic cry, tears beginning to well up in his eyes. It seems that sadness has added itself to his growing list of emotions.</p><p><strike>Tommy</strike> <em>Dream</em> answers him. “Oh, Tubbo. It doesn’t <em>matter</em> if he deserves this. There <em>is</em> no more Tommy. I’ve removed him.”</p><p>The tears flow freely. “<em> No... </em> surely- <em> surely not... </em>”</p><p>“Tommy, is <em> dead.</em>”</p><p>Tubbo’s vision goes completely black as he loses consciousness and falls over onto his side with a thud.</p>
<hr/><p><span class="ghostbur">“Oh, hello, son! Hi, um, have either of you seen Phil?”</span> Ghostbur asks cheerfully. The man had just silently walked through the white house, going around L’Manburg and asking anyone he could where his father was. It was unusual, Phil leaving the country for only a day, two days in a row. When Phil left for long periods of time, it was almost always because he was staying with Technoblade for a few days. He was still his father’s son, after all.</p><p>The part that made the amnesiac ghost worried was that he didn’t leave a note.</p><p>Phil <em> always </em> left a note, how could he not? He knew his dead son couldn’t remember things very well, especially things that Alivebur or Wilbur did, so he always left a note outlining exactly what he had left to go do that day. Ghostbur would collect these notes and put them between the pages of an empty book he had, with “Dad’s Notes” written on the front. When it wasn’t in his inventory, he kept the note book in the little makeshift library he had built within one of the rooms of his sewer home.</p><p>Ghostbur was wholly unaware of just how close in proximity his library was to Alivebur’s button room.</p><p>He was sure that Phil had returned home yesterday, but when he floated back over to his father’s house the next day, Phil simply wasn’t there. No trace of him left behind. Right when Ghostbur had noticed he was feeling nervous about the whole situation, he quickly reaches into his inventory and pulls out some blue, calming himself. Now that the shock had passed, he just needed to find out where Phil went.</p><p>Fundy stiffens for only a moment, then returns to the paper he was looking over on the table, with a slightly dejected look on his furred face. Quackity, always the aggressor, speaks up instead. He lets out an irritated sigh and looks up at the phantom. “Ghostbur, now is <em> really </em> not a good time. Can’t you see we’re busy picking up the slack that was left <em> so nicely </em> by Tubbo and Ranboo? Fundy isn’t even supposed to be here, he planned to work at the damn ice cream shop today!” Quackity snapped at the pale figure.</p><p>“It’s true, we had to close up shop for the whole day.” Fundy still doesn’t look up at his late father, instead opting to look to the side at the floor.</p><p>Ghostbur is unfazed by the two’s annoyed responses, instead drifting over to the both of them. <span class="ghostbur">“You two seem upset. Here, have some blue. Calm yourselves.”</span> he says as he shoves the color into each of their working spaces. Quackity simply ignores the offering, while Fundy quickly shoves it deep in his inventory instead of letting it soak up his negative emotions.</p><p>“Thanks, Ghostbur.” Fundy says with a twinge of sadness, attention not leaving his work.</p><p><span class="ghostbur">“Fundy, I might be dead, but you’re still my little champion! Please, call me dad.”</span> he ends the sentence with a warm smile. The forgetful entity neglects to mention that the only reason he knew about his son’s nickname was from reading <em> Things I Remember. </em></p><p>Fundy stays silent.</p><p>Being given no response, Ghostbur returns to Quackity’s desk. <span class="ghostbur">“Quackity, you said Tubs and Ranboo are also missing?”</span> His smile fades as he poses the question.</p><p>The continued questioning makes Quackity even more frustrated. “Damn right I did. Those two just up and fucking left! I came in here this morning to say hi, and he was gone! Same with Ranboo. I never did trust the tall guy, he’s too flaky.” He returns to his paperwork for only a moment before looking right back up at the pale former president. “Oh, last I heard, Tubbo was in the infirmary outside Eret’s castle. It was on my communicator. He’ll know more than we do, which is nothing.”</p><p>Ghostbur is holding blue again. <span class="ghostbur">“Ah, okay, I’ll go ask him then! Bye, Big Q! Bye, son!”</span> His goodbyes carry the same glee and ignorant happiness that it always does, and it makes Fundy feel just a bit sick to his stomach.</p><p>Neither of them look up from their papers again while the ethereal man leaves through the open doors.</p>
<hr/><p>Eret was starting to get worried.</p><p>He hadn’t heard a single thing from any of the three teammates who had so much hope in their hearts before they left the castle the day before. His knights hadn’t seen anything, the guards appointed to the watchtowers had seen them leave, but not come back, and his communicator was dead silent. The figurehead king knew that the team were travelling much too far for there to be any signal to send whispers in the first place, the infrastructure for that had been built by Sam in and around the Greater Dream SMP kingdom only, but somehow he knew at least Philza would find some way to work around that.</p><p>While Eret knew he was the king of the land in title only, that all the real power belonged to Dream—that fact had been proven when the true ruler of the SMP decided to switch kings on a whim between himself and George—he at least knew that most information his faction gathered passed through his ears first. Especially considering that Eret himself specifically instructed his men to watch the waters for his friends’ return and inform him of it immediately.</p><p>Eret is currently standing just inside the massive front gate of his palace, speaking to Puffy, one of his most trusted knights and good personal friend. She had quickly risen in the ranks within the castle guard to be appointed as a Captain. They were discussing the status of the kingdom, the mundane everyday events of the place he looked after. None of them were very interesting, as the kingdom was running as smooth as ever, so when him and Puffy were meant to be talking about the matters of the faction, it was really just small talk.</p><p>That small talk ended the moment Eret glanced behind his sheep hybrid friend—who somehow had small horns of a ram, even though she was female—and noticed none other than the ghost of his former general floating up behind her. After three of his friends left to rescue Tommy, Ghostbur was the last person he had expected to talk to the day after their plan formed.</p><p>The king went a bit pale. Wilbur was dead, everyone knew that, but it still refuelled his guilt, seeing the man who he had chiefly betrayed. The anger Wilbur felt towards him was only rivalled by Tommy, who was very naturally quick to anger as it was. Worse yet is the fact that in death, he didn’t <em> remember </em> the betrayal. Needless to say, Eret did not want to talk to him.</p><p>But, the regal ruler was something of a softie, so he wasn’t about to send the spirit away, either.</p><p>Eret interrupts Puffy with a pat from the back of his hand on her shoulder. “Hold on, Puffy, look.” He points behind her, prompting her to turn around and also see the advancing ghost wave at both of them, then move a bit faster.</p><p>Puffy loved Ghostbur, she was fairly new to these parts, only arrived about 6 weeks ago, but the kind-hearted phantom had made her day a bit better every time they conversed. However, after talking to him for long enough, it had become obvious that he held some sort of massive grief on his shoulders, buried under a mountain of aloofness and amnesia. The motherly hybrid drew great pleasure from helping everyone she could assess their trauma and learn to adapt to it, accept it, and move on from it. She considered herself a rather good therapist. That was the main reason she became good friends with Eret, after all.</p><p>She was also the first to greet the specter once he reached speaking distance to the two of them.</p><p>“Hello, Ghostbur! What brings you to the castle this evening?” she called cheerily.</p><p>The ghost returned a nice smile. <span class="ghostbur">“Hello, Captain Puffy, hello Eret! Have you seen Phil anywhere? I- I don’t, ah, remember why I came all the way over here just to ask that, but I’ve been asking that all day, because...”</span> Ghostbur obviously failed to remember why he was asking everyone about his father. With his poor, ephemeral memory, Puffy supposed it was to be expected.</p><p>Eret’s reaction, however, was for his face to flush even more than it already had. “Wil- Ghostbur, is Philza... missing?” He almost didn’t want to know the answer, but he had to ask.</p><p>Ghostbur seems to light up in realization. <span class="ghostbur">“Yes, that’s right! He’s missing, and I know he’s missing because he... he didn’t leave a note saying where he was going!”</span> The ghost seems to gain a sense of accomplishment across his face at his recollections.</p><p>Eret can’t bring himself to feel calmed by his former general’s new personality. He frowns, hearing just the thing he feared. “I suppose Tubbo and Ranboo are missing too, then.” It wasn’t a question.</p><p><span class="ghostbur">“Yes, that’s right. How did you know?”</span> He pauses for a moment before continuing. <span class="ghostbur">“Wait, Eret, before you answer, have some blue, you look worried.”</span> Eret finds the color being placed in his hands.</p><p>The king smiles sadly. “Thank you, Ghostbur.” He holds it in his hands for a few seconds before placing it carefully in his inventory, then moves on to answer the question. “Philza, Ranboo and Tubbo too, they... left. Tubbo had been rushed into the infirmary yesterday, over there-” Eret gestures down the path, past the gate between the castle walls. “He was so sad, something that Tommy did... the kid could’ve used some of your blue, actually.”</p><p>Ghostbur’s face turned sad and guilt-ridden. <span class="ghostbur">“Oh... well, I’m sorry I wasn’t there to help calm him. But, maybe when we find him, I can give him blue!”</span> His face switches right back to hopeful, the sadness gone as quickly as it arrived. It was rather impressive how quickly his emotions could change, Eret thought.</p><p>Puffy quietly excuses herself from the conversation. Eret had already told her all he knew, and this wasn’t her conversation to be a part of. The king nods at her and she walks away.</p><p>“Yes, Ghostbur, I’m sure he’d love that. Anyway, Tubbo and Philza figured out... <em> something, </em> about Tommy, something that meant he was in trouble. I sent out a global message on my communicator, then Ranboo arrived. The three of them decided to form a rescue party for Tommy, and I haven’t seen them since. I, of course, wanted to go with them, but Tommy wouldn’t want me to be there, not after... you know.”</p><p>Ghostbur was clutching blue in his hands tightly now, its shade turning navy blue. <span class="ghostbur">“I-I’m not sure what you mean, y-your highne- Eret, w-why would Tommy not like you? You- you helped him fight Manburg! My, uh, my father successfully killed Alivebur!”</span> His expression is unreadable, rapidly shifting between emotions.</p><p>Eret sighed deeply. “You wouldn’t remember, Ghostbur. You were Alivebur, back then, Wilbur, even. I’m not sure you would <em> want </em> to remember, at any rate.” He looked down at the stone floor, filled with guilt, just like he had predicted he would feel.</p><p>Ghostbur looked similarly sad, but Eret couldn’t notice it. <span class="ghostbur">“Oh, it- it’s <em>that</em> kind of memory, then... here, Eret, have some more blue.”</span> He sadly passes the color a second time, almost no happiness left in his wispy, echo-y voice.</p><p>Eret silently accepts it with a solemn nod. “Do you have any idea where Tommy is, Ghostbur? Nobody does, except for Tubbo, and he’s already gone to save him. Before you, w-well, died, you were definitely the man closest to him.”</p><p>Ghostbur instantly perked up at the king’s words. <span class="ghostbur">“I do! He’s in Logsteadshire! I built a campsite so he could have a place to go while on vacation! And, I- I...”</span> His slightly transparent face falters again, <span class="ghostbur">“I gave him, and Tubbo too, a compass that pointed to the other, so they both knew where to find each other at all times. Seeing them apart made me feel sad, I- I had to use a lot of blue. But, the next time I tried to go back there, through the Nether, the portal was just... gone. I couldn’t find my way, and had to turn back. The route through the Overworld is very long, as well, I don’t think I would remember how to get there...”</span> He’s holding mostly unused blue again, and it’s very quickly turning dark.</p><p>“I can tell you’re worried about Philza and the others, but it’s late. Look, the sun is setting. Go home, Ghostbur. Get some rest, or, whatever it is you do as a ghost. If they aren’t back by tomorrow, we can arrange another party to go look for them.” Eret tries his best to reassure the spirit of his dead brother-in-arms.</p><p>Ghostbur plants a sad smile on his face. <span class="ghostbur">“Thank you Eret. I’ll see you tomorrow then, straight away!”</span> His smile grows a bit wider before he begins to turn back and head for L’Manburg.</p><p>“I’ll be waiting for you, then. Goodbye, old friend,” the sad king calls, waving farewell to the ghost and turning back into the confines of his castle.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>be honest, did i get your hopes up with that chapter title and summary? i've still got plans for everyone, but i will say that it'll be much easier to get the help they desperately need when they have people who <i>aren't</i> completely complacent like tommy is.</p><p>Well boys, we did it. This chapter hit 5.1k words. Truly, I don't know how it keeps happening, the last three chapters have each been longer than any before it. I mean, my shortest chapter is about 2.3k words and this is twice as long and then some. I guess that's what happens when the cast of characters that are involved in the story grows, you just have to write in how they all react to what's in front of them.</p><p>As always, thank you for the continued feedback! I promise that I read every comment, even if I don't reply to each of them. Don't want to seem too clingy, y'know? Next chapter, I expect all of you to give our cast a warm welcome to their new lives. :)</p><p>Edit: Just to clarify, yes, Ghostbur uses 'Wilbur' when he refers to himself before the election, and 'Alivebur' after the election, particularly when he goes insane.<br/>Edit 2: I just had a fucking SICK idea regarding the reason Ranboo is so vacant during this chapter, so I removed the explanation I gave here.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0011"><h2>11. Kiss your Dreams Goodbye</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>i am so fucking sorry.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Title from Kiss Your Dreams Goodbye, by derivakat on Youtube</p><p>this might be a good time to remind everyone that if you make fanart of this some day, use the tag #brokentoysfanart on twitter, and if you don't use twitter, add a comment please<br/>i would love to see it<br/>i need happiness in my life after writing this</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Now it was Tubbo’s turn to be carried by Phil.</p><p>When he heard the signature thump of a body falling over, Phil immediately rushed to his adopted son’s side and picked him up bridal style, just as he had for Tommy. He lamented, remembering just how easy it was to pick him up from the rough bed he had been sleeping on, quickly recognizing just how malnourished his youngest son was. <em> Nobody </em> should have had to go through something like this, let alone Tommy.</p><p>He had always been so young at heart, no matter how old he got, so full of energy. Dream had forcibly extracted all that energy and injected it back into a set of fucking <em> sticks, </em> leaving his own son with absolutely nothing to his name.</p><p>After hearing the things that the masked devil was <em> making </em> him say, it sounded like he hadn’t even left his name to him, either.</p><p>Because that’s the situation now. Tubbo was right. Dream had somehow created a device—it had to be some sort of magic—that allowed him to <em> directly </em> control his every movement, with what seemed little more than just his own thoughts. Just trying to wrap his head around the scene he had just witnessed unfold made him ill, a huge ball of <em> sick </em> gradually wrapping itself up in the pit of his stomach.</p><p>And it was sick. It was sick, twisted, demented, <em> sadistic- </em></p><p>And Phil knew he could do nothing about it.</p><p>He knew everyone who had valiantly pledged to save Tommy would soon share his fate.</p><p>Ranboo was right. <em> Dream always wins. </em></p><p>So there he was. Being escorted by Tommy- Tommy’s body, this wasn’t his own will, along with his enderman hybrid friend, to their supposed new home. It appears to be somewhere inside a building which only housed a kitchen and a small table to eat at. Phil hadn’t dared look behind him at Tommy, he was scared to death that he would see the face of someone completely different, so utterly <em> not </em> his son. He simply resigned himself to his fate and let it happen.</p><p>Dream takes a torch out of his inventory and uses it to light two lanterns hanging from the ceiling, fully illuminating the room.</p><p>Putting away the torch, he replaced it with a satchel and tossed it over his shoulder. “Put your stuff on the table, both of you. Empty Tubbo’s pack onto it, too.” he commanded.</p><p>Dream repositions the sticks in his hand, pushing one of the sections with his thumb, showing what would happen to Tommy if they didn’t comply.</p><p>Phil glares at the white mask roughly, but carefully sets down Tubbo on a nearby chair, then proceeds unstrapping and removing his armor in a show of agreement. Once he finishes, he makes a quick glance at Ranboo, realizing that the taller teenager hadn’t taken off a single piece of armor. In fact, it looks like he hadn’t moved at all.</p><p>Phil nudges him, prompting Dream to also turn his attention to him. “Ranboo, come on,” the father says quietly. No response.</p><p>He’s a bit annoyed now. Whatever’s happening to him, now is <em> not </em> the time. “Hey, earth to Ranboo! Wake up!” Phil talked louder this time, snapping his fingers in front of his face (which he had to reach up to do) and waving it in front of his eyes.</p><p>Ranboo successfully snaps out of his trance. “Huh? O-oh, sorry, I was, uh, zoned out. Don’t- don’t worry about me!” He lets out a small, nervous laugh.</p><p>Phil decides that reaction was a good deal stranger than the anxiety-ridden hybrid usually is. He’ll have to ask him about it later, there’s more pressing matters right now than getting through to Ranboo. “We need to do what Dream says, Ranboo. Put all your stuff on the table.”</p><p>“Oh, o-okay.” He quickly dumps his inventory and gets to work taking off his complicated armor, while Phil gingerly takes Tubbo’s pack and wears it, combining the boy’s extra inventory with his own. Then he sets their limited supplies out on the table, and Dream moves Tommy to sit on one of the chairs pushed against a wall. The boy’s body instantly goes limp once again, his brow furrowing, face no longer at peace. It makes Phil want to kill something, preferably the man who has them captured now.</p><p>Dream begins parsing through the contents on the table, putting things in his own inventory that he might want to use, discarding items that he’ll use later into a chest on the wall. Phil praises his good judgement for opting to leave the compass he owns which points directly to Technoblade’s cabin in the snow. He shuddered to imagine what Dream could do to his eldest son, what the voices would think of the rest of his family being in such a helpless state.</p><p>Their masked captor, having finished sorting the supplies and weapons, looks over the two sets of armor laid out in front of him. He almost seems impressed with their intricacy. “You know, these sets of armor are very complicated. And look at this one, the metal is sewn onto some sort of elastic material like a suit.” He turns to the captives. “Who’s your tailor?”</p><p>Phil grits his teeth at the joke and talks through them. “They’re <em> custom.</em>”</p><p>Dream replies with mock surprise. “No need to get so angry Phil, I was just curious.”</p><p>Phil can’t take it. The piece of shit just used his nickname <em> again. </em> He takes one stomp forward on the wood floor before he’s stopped by Dream whipping out Tommy’s sticks and twirling them in his fingers. “Ah, ah, ah, I wouldn’t do that if I were you,” he chirps in a singsong voice.</p><p>Phil pales and steps back once more. <em> He’s right, of course he is. I just lost my cool, that’s all. </em></p><p>Dream speaks up, giving the next set of instructions. “Thought so. Right, well, it’s getting late, so I suppose it’s time to show you three where you’ll be staying for the night.”</p><p>He pulls out Tommy’s sticks, causing Phil to instinctively look at Tommy to see his reaction. The moment his body tenses and stands up, his eyes open and his lips curl in relief and happiness.</p><p>Phil wants to cry.</p><p>Tommy’s eyes, Tommy’s sharp, decisive eyes, blue like aquamarine and sparkling like diamonds, have been completely replaced. Now, irises and pupils be damned, the whites of his eyes transition to dull, gray, lifeless circles. They’re completely cloudy and hazy, likely from disuse, and he looks <em> blind. </em> The only reason Phil knows he isn’t is because Tommy is looking right at him.</p><p>He can’t stop himself. Phil rushes over to his youngest son, quickly pulling him into a tight hug, muttering apology after apology into the filthy red t-shirt which he’s also getting wet with his tears.</p><p>Tommy doesn’t return the hug. He can’t. Instead, Tommy is forced to wedge his hands into the space between them and shove Phil out of the hug, who stumbles backwards and falls into a sitting position, startling Ranboo. Tommy’s face is unreadable, but Phil is still staring at it, and it stares back.</p><p>Something like color flickers in his gray eyes, if only for a fraction of a second, but Phil barely notices it in the state he’s in, thinking it’s just his mind trying to fill in the color for him.</p><p>Just when Phil starts to think that Tommy is feeling something he hasn’t felt in a long time, he hears Dream blurt out a condescending “Aw, how touching.” Immediately after, Tommy swivels in place, turning towards the furnaces and cooking station, then walks over to it.</p><p>However, he stops just short of it, bends down, and using all of the severely limited strength that Dream is able to make him use, lifts up a slab of concrete off the floor. Phil is still too paralyzed in grief to stand up and peer into the dim hole which was now revealed by the fake covering, so Ranboo builds up a bit of courage and takes one step to look inside. There’s a simple ladder which extends down to a very dimly lit stone room, and it looks like it hasn’t been uncovered in weeks. The musty smell all but confirms it.</p><p>Dream supplies the information that both the captives knew was coming. “Say hello to your new living space, guys!” he says, adding, “Down the ladder, both of you. I’ll carry the little president down for you.”</p><p>Phil quickly flies into anger at that. “<em>No! </em> ” he snapped, “His name is <em> Tubbo, </em> and I don’t want you to even <em> breathe </em> in his direction. I’ll carry him down myself.”</p><p>Their collective kidnapper simply shrugs and tips his head to the side. “Suit yourself.” Phil watches Ranboo climb down the ladder, then as delicately as he can, slings his son over his shoulder, slowly maneuvers his way down the ladder with one hand. The enderman hybrid spots him so he doesn’t drop Tubbo onto the ground. They make it to the bottom of their little room.</p><p>The room is a tiny jail. There’s iron bars dividing one half of the space with the other, and an iron door off to the far side, hinged on the stone wall. A single thin, white bed lays along the back wall, opposite the bars, and a plain lever is affixed to the stone adjacent to the metal door. The room is so dark because the only light is what’s streaming in from the hole in the ceiling, and a single dim torch on the wall outside the bars.</p><p>Phil watches as Tommy climbs down the ladder and stands attentively at the base of it. Dream follows him in, then once he collects himself, moves Tommy to a single chair in the corner of the room, and plops into it. As he looks on, Phil is filled with disgust towards the mask keeping them locked up here as he sees Tommy’s arms fall slack to his sides and his head lolls around on top of the chair’s backrest.</p><p>Phil quickly resigns himself at the sight of what his youngest son has been reduced to. He supposes that, given his new living situation, he’s going to have to get somewhat used to Tommy’s sudden shifts between living boy and ragdoll.</p><p><em> It’s only until we come up with an escape plan, </em> Phil thinks. He sighs sadly, moving to the door, flicking the lever, and setting Tubbo to rest on his back on the bed.</p><p>Dream pipes up at the sight. <em> The bastard is probably loving this, </em> say the parent’s thoughts. “As you may remember, I mentioned that I was only expecting Tubbo to show up, not the rest of you. So, I’ve only prepared this room with one bed.” He playfully puts one hand over the painted smile on his mask. “Oops!”</p><p>After motioning for Ranboo to join Phil and Tubbo in the cell, he pushes the lever back down, trapping them in the cage. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, you three interrupted my good night’s sleep, and you’ll need to wake up bright and early tomorrow for the official introduction to your new lives here in exile!” he says playfully. Phil cringes at the notion of ‘his new life in exile’.</p><p>He silently walks up to the bars and watches Tommy climb back up the ladder, then as Dream begins to follow him. Before climbing, however, the white porcelain turns around to face him, seemingly forgetting something. “Oh, and don’t think about trying to escape. You know what will happen if you do.” Dream waves the sticks in his hand again, then ends it with a cheerful “Goodnight!” and climbs up the ladder.</p><p>The little room is promptly plunged into darkness, only staved off by the weak torch on the wall. From the lack of a loud thud, it seems that Dream didn’t even bother to cover the hole back up with the fake slab. Phil turns his attention to his unconscious son laying on the bed. He slowly takes the bedsheets out from under his body, places them back over him, then removes his large black cloak and drapes it over his body as well. He leans down on his knees at the foot of the bed, pushes a few stray hairs out of Tubbo’s soft face, then plants a kiss square on the boy’s forehead.</p><p>“Oh Tubs, what are we going to do?” he laments, hand softly caressing Tubbo’s cheek. Then, he sadly gazes over to Ranboo. “Get some sleep, Ranboo. We’ll need it for tomorrow.” The hybrid simply gives one nervous nod.</p><p>Phil eventually falls asleep, still kneeling at the bed, arms draped over Tubbo’s figure and head resting on his beating heart.</p><hr/><p>Resting in the bed in Tnret finally gives Tommy the time It needs to think about the events that happened that night.</p><p>First on the thought to-do list, was that still his name? Tommy? Dream didn’t seem to think so, he had introduced It as his toy, so that’s the name Dream gave It. Toy.</p><p>It’s head hurt to think about It’s two different names, each one sure sounded about as correct as the other. It couldn’t keep switching between the two, It had to choose one and stick with it, if only for It’s own good.</p><p>It picks the first idea that comes to It’s head. If It couldn’t decide the answer Itself, It would just have to hear which name sounded more natural, more like It.</p><p>The first name up was the one It remembered using the most, Tommy. Of course, it sounds like a perfectly normal name, and It knows It’s used it in the past, but now it seems... old.</p><p>The old name seems worn out, seems spoiled, seems almost <em> fake. </em></p><p>Regardless, It tries saying it out loud. Reaching down into It’s throat, It pulls the vocal cords to make the sounds. “Tom- my?” No, that can’t be right. It was much too forced, took way too much effort to make it leave It’s mouth. It almost sounded like it was phrased as a question, like It was asking Itself if that was It’s real name, because It was unsure.</p><p>It tries the next one, the new one, the one Dream provided It with.</p><p>“Toy.” That’s the one.</p><p>It slipped out of It’s mouth effortlessly. Toy’s new name felt so much better than It’s old one. It thinks that the old name was probably from It’s old life, and Toy has similar feelings about both of those things.</p><p>Hey, there’s a good idea to put on the to-do list, think about It’s old life.</p><p>Doing that proved to be much harder than Toy thought it would be. The past feels so far away, like It’ll try and try to grab it but will never be able to. That’s fine, all It remembers from It’s past life was feeling scared and alone, like anything It did had big effects on other stuff.</p><p>There was a lot of yelling. People were yelling at It, and It didn’t like when they did that. There was loud other stuff too, like loud booms and loud screams. Was It's voice loud before? It kinda remembers that. It can’t help but think that the old Toy wasn’t very useful to people, but that all changed when It was given It’s new life, because now It was useful. Dream said so. He probably knows how much Toy likes being useful, so he agrees to use It as many times as he can.</p><p>Was Toy owned by Dream? Was It his... belonging?</p><p>Well, of course It was! Dream said so, when Phil and Tubbo and Rambo... was that his name? Maybe. Phil and Tubbo and the weird eyes one had somehow found where Toy and Dream lived. Was that a... visit? Were they there to visit It? How long had it been since someone visited? It can’t remember. Wait, what was It thinking about?</p><p>Right, belonging to Dream.</p><p>After all, Toy did say that It was Dream’s toy, and he put the, uh... the s, and that means... that means Dream owns It. Oh, that must be why It’s new name felt so easier to say than It’s old one. He was Toy’s owner, Dream’s toy was named Toy. That’s kinda funny.</p><p>Another thing done. Check! Toy needs to think more about Phil and Turbo and Rambo. When Phil had walked into Tnret to wake It up, he called It the bad name, and Toy called him Dad.</p><p>But, that couldn’t be right... could it? It remembers... that It had a dad, but that musta been part of It’s old life. Toy said... It said that Tommy died, that It... he? That Tommy got removed. That meant that It’s old life wasn’t real now, but then how could Toy still remember it?</p><p>But... did It remember? Was It's think right? Was those names... right? Phil, and Turbo... no, Tub- bo? Tub... oh! Fill a tub! That’s like a bath. Funny names. </p><p>It’s head starts hurting again, and it also hurts thinking It’s old life, so now it’s like... double-y hurt. Toy just wants It’s head to stop hurting. Was it hurt? Maybe It just needs to get rid of the old thinks. Toy wants It’s head to stop. Yeah, that’s how It does that. Toy got rid of It’s life, It’s bad name, It thinks old memories are gonna leave now. Toy had to work to think them anyway, so it should be easy to not think them.</p><p>Stop the think, stop hurt. Easy.</p><p>Wait.</p><p>No. Not yet.</p><p>Toy felt something. In the building, Phil hugged It, looked at It, <em> stared </em> at It-</p><p>It <em> felt </em> something, what was it? What was that feeling, what was it? What did he <em> feel? </em></p><p>Wait, when did Phil hug It? No. No, it’s leaving, <em> the memory is leaving! </em></p><p>It still had a <em> feeling, </em> what <em> was </em> it? What did It <em> feel?! Please! </em></p><p>There. There it is.</p><p>It felt-</p><p>
  <em> He felt- </em>
</p><p>...</p><p>Sleepy!</p><p>Toy feels sleepy. That’s the feel.</p><p>Sleep is... useful. So It’ll sleep. It wants useful.</p><p>Toy is useful, sleep is useful, Toy sleeps.</p><hr/><p>Tommy opens his eyes.</p><p>He’s sitting on a bench somewhere, but he can’t really understand his surroundings. The bench is built just the right size for two people, and he knows there’s someone else sitting on it alongside him. He’s on the left, they’re on the right. Tommy’s hanging an affectionate arm around his fellow benchmate’s shoulders. He should at least talk to whoever is sitting next to him, hopefully get some sort of information about just where the hell he is. Tommy turns his head, eyes locking with-</p><p>“Tnret?!”</p><p>His eyes bug out at the sight as the bench expands to fit the relatively small tent who is now, uh, <em> sitting </em> on it, as Tommy’s own arm also stretches comically to reach around its shoulders.</p><p>The tent’s... shoulders...</p><p>Tommy is definitely dreaming.</p><p>“Hey, big man.”</p><p>And now Tnret’s talking. Of course it is. He’s just barely processed this bitch of a dream and now his <em> home </em> is talking to him. Its front flaps wave in the wind when it speaks because <em> of course </em> they do. At least it looks really funny. Tommy stifles a giggle with his normal hand.</p><p>Tommy looks back at the tent, who is also looking at him. Well, it’s not, since it doesn’t have a face, or a head, it’s just... Tnret. Nevertheless, Tommy can just <em> feel </em> it looking at him. This dream’s pretty fucked up.</p><p>“This dream’s pretty fucked up. Whoa, what- what just happened?” It was a genuine question, he didn’t know what happened. He thought his words and they came out of his mouth at the same time. Probably just some bullshit dream nonsense.</p><p>Tnret <em> laughs. </em> How the hell is it laughing? It’s a tent! Then again, Tommy’s arm does still look like rubber, so he guesses anything can and will happen right now. Speaking of the arm... Tommy tries moving it a bit, and the feeling of the whole thing moving at once where it was previously only about two feet long sends a certain tingle up his spine.</p><p>“Don’t worry Tommy, it’s just some bullshit dream nonsense. Anything <em> can </em> and <em> will </em> happen.” There it is again. Thoughts came out as words, and Tommy was getting annoyed.</p><p>“Okay, now this is just annoying.” the teenager scoffs. At least it’s fun waving his crazy arm, watching it wiggle down its length towards his hand, a hand he can definitely still flex like normal. He knew the fucking putty arm was so unbelievably strange, yet in the back of his mind, it felt right somehow.</p><p>Wait. Tommy instantly feels the weight of reality come crashing back down on him.</p><p>Tnret just used the wrong name.</p><p>“Wait, you just used the wrong name.” For some reason, it sounded to Tommy like he was amicably berating it. Isn’t he supposed to be all dumb and blissfully ignorant and shit? “I’m not Tommy, that’s not my name anymore. Sorry, man.” He shrugs. “I’ve been Dream’s toy for quite a while, so my name is-”</p><p>He gets cut off by his own inability to say the name. <em> His </em> name. “My name, it’s- it’s... <em> T-Toy. </em>” Tommy finally spits it out with great difficulty. He plays with his noodle arm a bit to distract himself from the tough topic. Why is it so hard to say his name now?</p><p>“Maybe it’s because that’s, oh I dunno, <em> not </em> your name, Tommy? Not here, at least.” Tnret answers before he can ask. Great, now his <em> tent </em> can read his thoughts. “And stop playing with your arm already, jeez.”</p><p>Maybe the weight of reality isn’t so heavy, after all. It’s kinda like there’s something holding it up over his shoulders. Something’s protecting him, something’s...</p><p>Sheltering him.</p><p>In an instant, the world shifts around Tommy. Tnret grows in size and repositions itself over him and the bench he’s sitting on, which snaps back to its regular size. Tommy notices his arm also shrinks in a similar manner. He waggles it to confirm, and his joints move just like a regular arm. “Aww.”</p><p>“Oh- Well, that just happened.” Tnret scoffs. “Looks like you’re inside me now, big man.” </p><p>Tommy can somehow tell that it smirks at its own comment, but he grimaces in disgust. “Tnret, Tnret, don’t say that please. I am a minor,” he chides at his home.</p><p>It refutes its owner. “And I’m a tent, what’s your point? Just a big white sheet to keep the rain off your head, really.”</p><p>He stands up off the bench, exasperated. “But that’s just the point, Tnret! You’re <em> not </em> just my tent! You’re the only real friend I’ve had the <em> entire time </em> in this absolute bitch of an exile! I mean, fuck me, you’re more of your own man than <em> I </em> am! I’m just more of Dream’s <em> stuff </em>.” Tommy slumps back down on the bench.</p><p>Tnret seems accomplished, it probably thinks it just got Tommy to realize the situation, but its owner is even more confused. “See? Now you’re getting it. I’m like your conscience, bitch!”</p><p>Tommy wears an incredulous look. “Wha-” he stammers.</p><p>He’s ignored entirely, and Tnret just keeps talking. “Well, you get what’s going on, but like, the complete fucken’ opposite. Let me explain how I see it. You gave me, your <em> house, </em> all the humanity you had left sometime after Dream started making you his bitch.”</p><p>Tommy scoffs. “That’s putting it lightly, prick.”</p><p>The tent continues, undeterred by its owner’s insults. “<em> But... </em> that’s not how it’s supposed to be. You are your own man, Tommy. A <em> big </em> man, as well! I’m just your tent. That’s all I’ve ever been, all I ever will be. I belong to you, and you do not belong to that green <em>bastard.</em> Your life has gone all wrong! I suppose I’m here to give you your humanity back, so you can continue to live as your own person. No strings attached.”</p><p>Tommy gives his tent the dirtiest look he can manage at the moment. “Tnret, what the actual fuck. <em> No strings- </em> do you have any idea how insensitive that is, you dickhead?!”</p><p>His tent laughs again. It’s- it’s <em> Tommy’s </em> own laugh, the wheeze that shifts into trying to catch his breath somewhere along the way, making the sound warble up and down.</p><p>“Sorry, sorry. Couldn’t resist. You know how it is, surely.” Tnret snickers.</p><p>“Yeah, yeah I do.” Tommy admits fondly, reminiscing all the times he’s made a terrible joke completely at the expense of others.</p><p>Tnret gets to the point. “Look, Tommy, I feel like we’re running out of time. I don’t know if we’ll see each other again, so you need to listen. This life you’re in now? Being Dream’s plaything? It isn’t right, Tommy. You <em> need </em> to fight back, to resist it. Even if you can’t do anything about it physically, you need to know in your mind that it’s all wrong. You have friends and family who still care, who still want their Tommy back. The <em> real </em> Tommy. I know it, and deep down, you know it, too.”</p><p>“<em>You have to remember.</em>”</p><p>As the world around him vanishes in an instant, Tom... Tom- my? No, Toy’s mind goes back to the stuff It likes to be thinking.</p><p>“Oh, <em> To-o-ommy! </em> Come on out! It’s time to not sta-arve!” Who? Toy don’t know that name, not It’s name.</p><p>Feels good when It gets outta bed. Walk out, sees Dream. Oh, Dream talking to It.</p><p>Why didn’t he say Toy’s name? Dream named It, It’s Dream’s toy, name’s Toy.</p><p>“Dr- Dream...” It tries to word. Dream got close. Good, he can hear.</p><p>“N-name, Toy...” It say. Good name.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>"Kiss your Dreams Goodbye" for the kiss from Phil on Tubbo's forehead during their last night with free will<br/>"Kiss your Dreams Goodbye" for the memories that left Tommy without so much as a wave goodbye<br/>"Kiss your Dreams Goodbye" for the dream that reminded Tommy of the brighter past</p><p>this chapter completely fucking broke me. it's me, im the broken toy.<br/>i just <i>had</i> to write the damn blurb on the top of these endnotes, didn't i. im a fuckin masochist apparently.<br/>i know you're sad reading this chapter. imagine being me, im the one who writes a big word in tommy's pov, then deletes it and writes fuckin baby language because he's losing his grip on reality.</p><p>i had to write a dream sequence at the end that was so self-indulgent and most of the reason its there is to give <i>me</i> happiness and hope.</p><p>you really don't have to comment. if you really must, please just take the time to scold me for making you read this chapter. i don't wanna see any /lh 's, either.<br/>next chapter is... actually, i think im gonna write a really funny idea i have for a little spin-off oneshot based on this au, so watch for that. i need the happiness in my life.</p><p>edit: lmao these endnotes i made yesterday are so depressing. i've read the chapter enough times that i'm over it now, so don't worry. I've actually been going through and fixing little tidbits that I missed since uploading broken butts (i still can't get over that i named it that)</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0012"><h2>12. The Wrong Stuff</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>As three more sets of sticks glow, three more fates are sealed, and three new friends are made.<br/>One of them takes it worse than the rest.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>This chapter is quite painful, so be sure to check out the <b>second fic in this collection</b> if you haven't already! I added it just after posting the previous chapter and it is very funny, so you can use it as an injection of serotonin</p><p>For scale, no I don't think this chapter is nearly as bad as chapter 11. However, I recently realized that I am actually extremely biased towards being hurt by chapter 11, merely because losing the ability to have conscious thought is my deepest earthly fear! Is that why I wrote the chapter the way that I did? Probably!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>A loud clanging sound violently rips Tubbo right out of his deep sleep, causing him to nearly jump out of his skin with a “huh?!” The prisoner takes in his surroundings, seeing that he’s the only one of them who has a bed. Ranboo is leaning against a stone wall, sitting on the equally stone floor, and Phil has shot up from his position at the foot of Tubbo’s bed.</p><p>He looks up at the iron bars that split the room. Oh, Dream is standing there with his ever-present mask, and he’s been dragging a sword along the iron bars like a rake, as an alarm. “Wake up, sleepyheads! You’ve all got a big day ahead of yourselves. Let’s just say, very soon you’ll all have a new purpose in life.” He says with a sly, demeaning tone.</p><p>Tubbo cringes in terror as the prospect of having a ‘new purpose’. He can only assume Dream’s referring to those infernal sticks he uses to control Tommy. His face drains just thinking about the events that took place last night. It all felt so real, but it was so utterly horrifying that it seemed like it could only be the stuff of someone’s worst nightmares.</p><p>He’s startled hearing Phil lash out in one last defiant act before Dream does... whatever, to them. “Dream, you will <em> never </em> get away with this. There’s not a single <em> fucking </em> person in these lands who would stand for this! If anyone finds out about this shit, you’re <em> dead! </em>”</p><p>Dream scoffs behind his mask. “Oh, <em> please. </em> You think I’ll let anybody find out? What they don’t know, can’t hurt them! Ignorance is bliss, <em> Phil.</em>” He put heavy emphasis on the name, and even paused a moment before saying it.</p><p>Tubbo’s father in question flies into a fit of rage at the name once more. Tubbo expected he would, as everyone knew that only his family and close friends were allowed to use it. What he didn’t expect was just how <em> scary </em> it would be, seeing him fly over to the bars as if he had wings and grip them and <em> shake </em> the iron grid.</p><p>“<em>I thought I </em> <b> <em>told</em> </b> <em> you, you aren’t </em> <b> <em>allowed to fucking CALL ME THAT!!</em> </b>”</p><p>Tubbo shrinks in on himself at the scene playing out in front of him, face practically white and sweating, breathing heavily. He doesn’t know what to be more afraid of: his so-called new purpose, Dream’s unsettling personality, or his own father screaming at the top of his lungs. He settles for crying.</p><p>Dream notices it, of course he notices it. “You have ten minutes to talk before I send my toy in to come and get you.” He gestures in Tubbo’s direction with his chin. “Your boy looks a bit worse for wear, Phil. I’ll let you two say goodbye.”</p><p>Phil’s shoulders tense while the rest of his body stiffens up as Dream climbs back up the ladder and out of the hole which is currently filling the room with light. In an instant, Phil wrenches his hands from the bars and turns around to face Tubbo with a look of horrified sadness across his face.</p><p>He speaks just softly enough for Tubbo to hear from across the cell. “Oh, Tubbo...” Next thing he knows, Phil is flying back as he sits on the bed at Tubbo’s side and hugs him tightly with open arms, the tears welling up in his eyes finally falling onto his father’s shoulder. “I’m so sorry you had to see me like that, Tubs. I’m so sorry.”</p><p>Tubbo finally works up the effort to speak again, but his voice is breaking harshly. “It’s- it’s okay, Dad. I, I get it. This whole thing i-is so- so, <em> fucked </em> up, a-and I don’t know what to <em> do.</em>”</p><p>He gently breaks the hug with a sniffle to look Phil in the eyes so he can talk to him. “I-I don’t wanna end up like- like To- <em> Tommy.</em>” Tubbo’s expression darkens in fear on top of everything else he’s feeling. “Dad, I’m- I’m <em> scared. </em> I-I-I don’t wanna be a... a <em> toy! </em>” He throws himself back into Phil’s shoulder.</p><p>Phil rubs up and down Tubbo’s spine as he comforts him. “Oh I know, mate, I know. I don’t want to either.” He soothes Tubbo for a few more seconds, then pushes away. “But... I’m afraid it’s out of our control. You heard him last night, if we don’t do what he says, he’ll... he’ll <em> break </em> his legs. You don’t want that- that <em> pain </em> on your conscience, Tubbo. Trust me.” Phil peers to his side with a reserved look on his face, looking like he might cry. Tubbo knows exactly what he’s talking about. It’s the reason he had to rebuild L’Manburg, after all.</p><p>To both family members’ surprise, the next person to speak up is none other than Ranboo. Tubbo recognized that he was <em> really </em> good at hiding himself away from any situation, being forgotten in the moment by those around him. “Um... guys? I, I hate to, well, break up the, uh, the moment... b-but, I also don’t want to. Be a toy, I- uh, I mean.” He looks up at them with fear replacing anxiety. “Please, just, tell me one of you has a- a <em> plan.</em>”</p><p>Phil gives the enderman a resigned look. “The plan, Ranboo, is... do what Dream tells you to. Look where we are, we’re stuck here for the foreseeable future. We’ll be back here soon enough, and we’ll have all the time in the world to come up with a real plan. For now though... don’t fight back.” He lets out a dry laugh. “Besides, pretty soon we won’t be able to.” It isn’t funny.</p><p>“Phil, I- I don’t like that plan.” Ranboo’s voice is deadpan, yet his body shakes with yet more fear. Tubbo smiles slightly. He’ll admit, that was kinda funny.</p><p>Phil sighs. “Besides, we don’t have enough time, they’ll be back any moment now. Ten minutes, remember? We need more than that, more time to think.” Tubbo feels a hand on his forehead pushing away some hair. He looks up to lock eyes with his father, who is also looking back down at him longingly. “For Tommy.”</p><p>Speak of the devil.</p><p>All three prisoners turn towards the ladder when they hear the rungs creak. Dream. He lands on the stone floor and steps right in front of the bars, looking directly at Ranboo. He’s holding Tommy’s sticks, tilting them back and forth expertly in his hand, and Tubbo sees his brother climbing down the ladder, rungs barely bending at all. Tommy walks over to the iron door, flicks the lever, and steps in the cage, sparing the captives no time at all when he steps over to Ranboo.</p><p>“No, no. Why am I first, why <em> me- </em> what are you- Tommy, please!” the hybrid begins to freak out. Tubbo is clinging tightly to Phil’s chest, but he can’t look away from the scene. It’s too dark in the little room to make out Tommy’s eyes, realizing he <em> still </em> hasn’t seen them again yet.</p><p>If Tubbo’s being honest, he’s scared to find out what they look like.</p><p>“Ranboo...” Phil warns sternly, “we talked about this. Stick to the plan.”</p><p>Ranboo looks at him for a second to catch his panicked breath, then nods. He awkwardly climbs the ladder with his abnormally long legs, letting Tommy lead him to their destination.</p><p>Tubbo sits there with his mouth hanging open, unable to look away. Once Tommy climbs the ladder, in the back of the group, Tubbo finally finds the effort to speak. “I think it just hit me how screwed we are.”</p><p>Phil rubs his son’s back again. “We’ll be okay, Tubs. I won’t let anything bad happen to you. Well- other than...” he waves his hand in the general direction of the hole in the ceiling. “This.”</p><p>Father and son sit in silent sobs and comforting embrace for around eight minutes before Dream returns.</p><p>Holding <em> two </em> sets of glowing sticks, one in each hand.</p><p>He tilts the one in his right hand, stopping when Tommy finishes climbing down the ladder.</p><p>Tilting the other set, Tubbo’s eyes go wide with horror as he sees Ranboo climb down the ladder. He had expected it since the hybrid had been escorted out of the cage, but knowing what was going to happen brought him very little comfort in the matter. Ranboo turns to face Tubbo and he feels even worse. The tall teen’s eyes are open wider than he’s ever seen them, and Tubbo can see the sweat glistening on his face from the light of the hole.</p><p>Phil is the first to try speaking to the enderman. “Ranboo, Ranboo are you okay? What happened?” He asks quickly. The only response is the gaze of his eyes and swallowing air down his throat, he looks like he tries to speak, but can’t. Fortunately, he doesn’t look like he’s in the absent trance like he had been last night. However, that means he’ll probably never be able to forget what happened to him.</p><p>He stumbles into the cell, looking like he got his own movements back, when Tubbo notices Dream’s mask.</p><p>The dead smile is looking right at Phil.</p><p>Dream puts the second set of sticks away as Tommy steps into the cell, making a beeline for Phil. He quickly whispers sweet comforts into Tubbo’s ear, then stands up and walks away before he can even be made to leave.</p><p>Tubbo reaches out with a futile arm in an effort to try to make Phil stay with him.</p><p>They all leave through the hole again before Tubbo can register that they’re walking away to begin with. The door was closed at some point.</p><p>Now when he sobs, there’s nobody to hold onto. Tubbo does the second best thing and wraps his own arms around himself, trying to rub his own back, quickly moving his hands up and down.</p><p>It doesn’t work.</p><p>Tubbo curls himself into the fetal position and rolls onto his side, resting his head on the thin, now wet pillow.</p><p>He tightly clasps his eyes shut and tries to imagine it all away to the echo of sobs bouncing off the rough stone walls.</p><p>—o—</p><p>After less time than it took for Ranboo to return, but what felt like hours, Tubbo finally hears footsteps again in the kitchenette above. He quickly gets up from the bed and sits on the edge of it, waiting for Phil to step down the ladder. First Dream, two sets of sticks again, then Tommy, then-</p><p>He sees the first sandal poke through the hole. “Phil?” he asks apprehensively. His father steps on the stone floor and turns around, an affectionate smile on his face. Tubbo’s hazel eyes lock with his dad’s ocean blue ones. “<em>Dad! </em> ” he shouts, running up to grip the bars in coincidentally the exact same place that Phil had earlier, albeit closer to the ground due to his height. It <em> hurts, </em> deep in Tubbo’s heart, when he realizes that Phil can’t move to hold Tubbo’s hands with his own, instead of using them to hold the metal bars.</p><p>“I’m fine, Tubbo, really. It doesn’t hurt, they barely even touch you.” Phil reassures him. That eases Tubbo a tiny bit. He’ll be fine. It’s just scary.</p><p>The moment Tommy flips the lever and the door opens, Tubbo rushes out to wrap his arms around Phil as quickly as he can.</p><p>Phil doesn’t hug back. He can’t. He does quite the opposite, actually.</p><p>Gripping Tubbo’s arms, Phil pries them off from around his body with force, like the limbs of a spring-locked restraint that won’t let go. “Tubbo, mate, this- this isn’t me. You know that.” his father says with a bit of panic in his voice.</p><p>“I know, Dad. I know.” Tubbo repeats through tears.</p><p>Phil smiles sadly. “Good, that’s good. Follow the plan, Tubbo, go with Dream. You’ll be fine.”</p><p>For the first time in three trips, Dream speaks up with faux innocence. “Well, about that...” Tommy closes the door, locking Phil inside, and Dream pockets Phil’s sticks. “Tubbo’s not coming back. Once I’m done with his sticks, we’re going on a little trip.”</p><p>“Wa-<em>what? </em> ” “<b><em>What.</em></b>” Tubbo and Phil say simultaneously, respectively.</p><p>Tubbo is frightened out of his wits, because he’s being taken away by Dream, taken to whatever kind of evil lair he might have, forcefully turned into another one of his... <em> toys. </em> Dream’s playthings, like more of his... <em> stuff, </em> like what’s already happened to Ranboo and, and Tommy- and their <em> own father. </em> Tubbo doesn’t want to be stuff! He’s the president of a whole country for god’s sake, and he’s only 17! And now, he’s just learned that he’s <em> not </em> going to be coming back afterwards, Dream is going to force him away! He doesn’t even know where he’s going! Wait... he’s the president. He has power over so many people, and now Dream has so much power over him- oh fuck, they’re going to L’Manburg!</p><p>Phil has anger pouring out of his ears, because he’s forced to watch this fucking <em> psycho </em> of a man take away who is now basically the only son he has left! Technoblade is in self-isolation in the middle of frozen fucking nowhere, and lost his mind to the curse of his damned voices. Wilbur lost his last life to suicide- no, no he didn’t, that was Phil, it was always Phil, the whole time. He never showed up when they needed him most, he believed Wilbur’s letters when he was clearly insane, he could see it in his writing. He should’ve <em> known </em> they needed him when Tommy stopped writing entirely, only to find out that Wilbur fucking <em> burned </em> whatever he tried to send to Phil! And Tommy- oh, Tommy was the worst. He lost his goddamn <em> humanity </em> to the same man who took both of his first two lives! He’s lost <em> everything </em> to Dream.</p><p>“<em>Dream you BASTARD! </em> <b> <em>LET MY SON GO!!</em> </b> ” “<em>No! No, Dad help me! Let </em> <b> <em>go</em></b><em>- DAD, PLEASE, </em> <b> <em>HELP ME!</em> </b>”</p><p>“<b><em>SHUT THE FUCK UP!!</em> </b> <em> BOTH OF YOU! Shut up, right now, or it’s </em> <b> <em>his life.</em></b>”</p><p>Everyone—even Ranboo—turns when they hear a small <em> shing </em> to the direction the sound came from, only to see Tommy holding a knife up to his own throat.</p><p>Their son, their best friend, their accomplice, looks <em> happy. </em></p><p>“<em>Useful...</em>” he breathes softly.</p><p>Phil slams the bars as Tubbo cries.</p><p>—o—</p><p>“Tubbo... go.” Phil commands slowly, carefully.</p><p>“But I-!” Tubbo tries to refute.</p><p>“<em>Go. </em> Please. Listen... to Dream.” he commands again, more sternly, but his voice is wavering dangerously.</p><p>Dream interjects. “Don’t worry Tubbo, we’ll have <em> lots </em> of fun together.” He releases his iron grip on the back of Tubbo’s white dress shirt and pats his shoulder instead.</p><p>The knife relaxes away from Tommy’s neck and returns to the boy’s inventory. He’s still smiling blissfully.</p><p>“M’kay...” Tubbo mumbles, with a thoroughly defeated look towards the ground.</p><p>Dream climbs the ladder, then Tommy, then Tubbo. They keep that order the whole while walking out of the tall log walls, Tubbo wincing at the bright sunlight as he exits the kitchenette.</p><p>Tubbo looks around at Logsteadshire. Wherever the place looked serene and peaceful the other day, now looks desolate and abandoned, like it’s an unnatural place to live. He spies the station Dream’s built for today. It’s just a makeshift roof, four wooden poles with a big, lime green sheet strung by its four corners across the top. The shade heavily resembles Dream’s own clothing, and Tubbo cringes severely at the grim sight.</p><p>He follows Tommy over to the setup. There’s a big table with numerous leather straps on it, with an enchanting table and multiple bookcases off to the side, as well as a smaller end table adjacent to the bookcases. As he’s led over to the station, he looks on in horror at the contents on the smaller table. It holds three individual socks and a small stack of glowing books.</p><p>One of the socks is white, but one half laterally is dyed black. There’s string-hair on the heel of the sock which is the same black and white, yet on opposite sides to the rest of the sock. There’s also a little red tie on in the center below the ‘hair’. Ranboo.</p><p>Another sock is painted in what seems to be green robes that display a deep V shape at the top, separating the halves. The heel wears a green and white striped piece of cloth, fitted perfectly in place over the round corner of the sock. Pale yellow string is draped around underneath the ‘hat’. Philza.</p><p>The third and most fear-inducing sock is covered with a navy blue hue, with small gold dots lining the center and moving down the ankle of the sock. On either side there’s a small golden patch with strings dangling from the underside of each one. The heel has a rather long, straight brown set of hair that drapes the entire corner rather uniformly. Tubbo.</p><p>None of them have any eyes.</p><p>Dream catches his attention. “I see that my work has caught your eyes. Do you like it? I like to think of myself as a bit of a craftsman.”</p><p>“I like to think of you as a sick bastard.” Tubbo tries insulting his kidnapper.</p><p>He just laughs. “Thank you, I try.” He puts his hand on his heart and acts like it’s been warmed by sweet nothings. At least Tubbo <em> tried </em> to get under his skin. Dream’s tone instantly shifts back to an impatient drawl. “Get on the table. This is a delicate process, can’t have you moving around.”</p><p><em> Do what Dream tells you to, </em> Tubbo reminds himself. He gets on the table, slowly.</p><p>Dream looks pleased at the obedient sight. He sits in his chair and kicks his legs up on the end table, and with sticks in hand, he gets to work. His other hand is resting behind his head.</p><p>Tommy instantly starts moving around the table, securing the leather around Tubbo’s ankles, wrists, waist, and chest. There’s even one next to his forehead. Finishing up with tightening the other straps until they begin to chafe, he finally moves to the head.</p><p>Tubbo looks his best friend right in the eyes, and utters a choked gasp while he starts to cry <em> again. </em></p><p>No, no, no no no. Tommy’s eyes, they- they’re <em> gray.</em> Gray! He doesn’t even have any pupils, where are his pupils! His eyes are gray, where’s the blue! Fucking <em>gray! </em> The dazzling, diamond blue that Tubbo’s come to love over the years, the sharp eyes of wit that never let up...</p><p>Reduced to nothing. Nothing, but hazy gray circles, filled with the smoke and ash of one too many explosions.</p><p>Tubbo knows all about how Tommy’s eyes work, he’s probably seen it more than anyone else. The worse Tommy felt, the duller they were. He’d get sick for days as a kid, the blue faded a bit. He got lost on a camping trip, he’d come back with dark blue eyes. He’d lose a bow duel, get exiled, lose a brother, get exiled <em> again? </em> Blue, blue, blue, blue.</p><p>Turned into Dream’s property.</p><p>
  <em>Gray.</em>
</p><p>Hot, painful tears flow onto the oak wood of the operating table. Tubbo’s been crying so much recently, his eyes are really starting to hurt.</p><p>“<em>Tommy...</em> where, where are your eyes? Wha- where is your <em>blue?</em> ” he sobs.</p><p>Tommy looks disappointed. <span>“Bad name... Toy, can’t own.”</span></p><p>Tubbo’s eyes widen and jaw goes slack. “<em>What? </em>”</p><p>Suddenly, Tommy walks over to the chair Dream was previously sitting in and plops into it, head rolling around on the back of the chair limply.</p><p>“Tubbo, as much as I want you and my toy to get to know each other, I have places to be.” Dream states plainly while carving something into a pair of regular sticks. Tubbo gulps. He knows those sticks won’t be regular for long.</p><p>He reaches over to grab Tubbo’s sock and includes it with the sticks, holding them over Tubbo’s chest. Dream says a few magic words that he can’t understand, and the sticks instantly begin to glow with enchantment magic.</p><p>Tubbo gasps with a violent stutter in his breathing. The moment the sticks activated, he felt... something. It was like- like something, deep, deep in his heart, left him. Was... <em> taken </em> from him. Something he needed, something that, now gone, made him no longer feel... complete. A little corner of his soul, his very <em> being, </em> felt empty. The feeling was incredibly difficult to wrap his brain around, to say the least.</p><p>Then, the empty space told him that it needed something that he couldn’t provide. It needed to be filled, needed to be repaired, needed to be...</p><p>Fixed.</p><p>Was this how it felt to be... <em> broken? </em></p><p>Dream deftly releases the strap on one of his wrists, and holds up the newly-minted sticks. Tubbo’s body stiffens obediently on the table.</p><p>“Welcome to your new life, my toy.”</p><p>The hole is filled back up. He’s complete now, but- it’s all wrong. No, that’s awful, that’s so utterly <em> wrong, </em> get it out! The void was refilled with a thing so fake, so artificial, and Tubbo <em> needs </em> it out of his system. He needs the right stuff, the good stuff, whatever’s inside him now is <em> bad </em> stuff! Get it out! Give me my stuff back! <em> Please! </em></p><p>But he can’t dwell on that just yet, because Tubbo experiences his arm get up, and he begins to panic, because it’s his <em> muscles </em> that are moving, completely on their own accord. It wasn’t even like his arms were being pulled by an outside force or anything like that, it was so much worse! His brain was moving his arm, moving his <em> fingers </em> now, but he wasn’t the one telling them to move in the first place! It made him want to pass out when Tubbo found his- his body, moving to undo more straps that kept the rest of him down. First his head, then chest, then other arm, and now the two limbs are working <em> together </em> to free him from his shackles.</p><p>His body sits up. “Dream, I think I’m gonna be sick...” Tubbo groans.</p><p>Dream tilts his head in thought. “That’s quite an... <em> interesting </em> reaction to the enchantment. Don’t worry though, you shouldn’t actually be able to vomit as long as I have your chest.”</p><p>The body pushes off the table and stands beside the table, and Tubbo feels woozy. “Oohhh...” Dream’s right, he does want to vomit, but can’t. It feels so much worse than either option individually.</p><p>“Dream, this... this is... uugh, my <em> head. </em> ” It’s throbbing with the dysfunction of his body, the paradox not letting him think straight, because the area of his brain responsible for basic motor functions is screaming that Tubbo’s body isn’t <em> listening </em> to it! That unnatural piece in his heart is betraying the rest of his body, infecting his mind with its influence.</p><p>Dream is honestly just annoyed. “Oh, come <em> on, </em> Tubbo, stop being so overdramatic. Not <em> one </em> other person responded nearly this poorly.”</p><p>“I’m not- I’m not <em> faking </em> this, Dream! This enchantment, it’s... it’s fucking me right up.” Tubbo’s head is spinning wildly.</p><p>“Tubbo, I’ve heard enough. Time to put you in your place.” He says with a finality in his voice. “First order of business, you still have your gear and supplies, and I want them.” He starts tilting Tubbo’s sticks, and his body walks back to the table and empties out his inventory onto it as he lets out an emotionally hurt whimper. Tubbo honestly forgot he still had items in his inventory.</p><p>Dream looks content. He starts, “Alright Tubbo, it’s time to go. We’ll be taking the Nether portal, since the Overworld takes too long, and you need to be there ASAP.”</p><p>Tubbo blurts a strangled noise as his body turns and walks towards the obsidian square, but before suddenly stopping in its tracks.</p><p>“Oh! Now how could I forget? You still have <em> one </em> item left.” Dream utters in a fake, practiced shock.</p><p>“What are you-“ Tubbo starts to ask, before his left arm instantly juts out in front of him, and his face warps to horror when he realizes what his captor is talking about.</p><p>
  <em> Your Tommy. </em>
</p><p>He starts to sweat profusely in panic as his right arm slowly pulls back the left sleeve to reveal the sight he’d been dreading for the past five seconds. “No, n-<em>no Dream, please! </em> That’s my <em>Your Tommy</em> compass, it's- it's how I keep him close,please! <em> Anything but that! </em>”</p><p>His right arm slowly undoes the wristband with efficiency, like it did with the leather shackles he had on previously. “<em>No, stop! PLEASE!</em> <em>I-I-</em><b><em> I’ll do anything!</em></b> ”</p><p>Dream only stops for a moment to rip a deep laugh from his chest. “Oh, Tubbo. I’m not sure you realize the situation here. You <em> already </em> will do anything for me!” The limbs resume the watch’s removal, right arm taking the now-loose strap and grasping it in its hand, compass face glowing purple as it’s held out in front of him for Dream to take.</p><p>Tubbo can only cry out in pained breaths, “<em>No, no, Dream, please... stop, please... I-I’ll be good, I will, just let me keep it, please...</em>”</p><p>Dream muses for a bit, but it’s just for show. “<em>Mmmm... </em> no.”</p><p>He swipes the compass-watch and Tubbo lets loose a cry of agony as he loses yet another piece of himself in as many minutes.</p><p>“You want to know why I did that, Tubbo?” he looks at the boy, talking slyly.</p><p>He’s practically bawling. “Wha-<em>why</em>...?”</p><p>The mask suddenly darts to within an inch of his face and another startled cry rips itself from his throat, and the porcelain is tilting to the side again.</p><p>Dream’s voice is positively <em> manic </em> now with glee, and it stops Tubbo’s sobs in their tracks only to replace them with yet more terror in his now incomplete soul. “It’s simple, really. <em> You, are my </em> <b> <em>toy.</em> </b> I <em> own </em> you, Tubbo. You no longer <em> have </em> any possessions, because you <em> are </em> the possession!” He steps back a tiny bit only to replace the gap with <em> Your Tommy </em> dangling an inch from his face instead of the smooth white surface.</p><p>Tubbo can’t move, but he doesn’t think he would be able to, even <em> if </em> his body was obeying him at the moment. Paralyzed with every emotion under the sun that translated to ‘scared’ in any way, the only sounds leaving his mouth are just <em> noises, </em> tiny shouts and whimpers and gulps of air, the latter of which get pushed right back out as soon as they enter. He realizes that his body is <em> breathing for him. </em> It makes him feel nauseous, but the feeling doesn’t make so much as a dent in the primal <em> fear </em> overtaking him, perverting every little corner of his psyche.</p><p>Oh, Dream’s talking again. “And <em>that,</em> my toy, <em>My Tubbo, </em>is why, when I look at this... <em>thing,</em> and I see that it says <em>Your Tommy? </em>” He jabs a finger harshly into Tubbo’s sternum at the ‘your,’ causing him to cry out in fear, “I know <em>it’s lying.</em> Because he, is <em>My Tommy. </em><b><em>My Toy</em></b><em>. That,</em> is the truth. And I <b><em>hate</em></b> liars.”</p><p>Dream finally backs up and stands straight, an imposing and attention-commanding stance, offset by that unsettling smile that would make anyone want to look anywhere else. Tubbo has never felt this small in his entire life, so small and helpless and afraid that he starts to believe that maybe he <em> is </em> the size of an actual toy. Dream’s toy. Maybe he could turn it into a pun, like... Toybo. That doesn’t sound so bad, he might be able to learn to live as a Toybo.</p><p>No, no, he can’t <em> think </em> like that! He has to stay strong, for Tommy. For his Tommy. He is <em> not </em> a toy, he is <em> not </em> Dream’s possession, he is <em> not </em> Dream’s toy, he is-</p><p>The masked madman interrupts his mantra. “Do I make myself <em> clear, </em> Tubbo?” he growls at the poor child.</p><p>The words just pop right out, and Tubbo can’t stop all the things he didn’t want to say from speaking for him. “Y-yes, Dream, cr-crystal! I-I-I’ll be good! I a-am your toy, I-I belong to you, y-you are m-m-my owner, <em> p-please don’t hurt me! </em>”</p><p>Dream recoils slightly at the confession, arms raising slightly and head sliding back a tad.</p><p>He isn’t wearing Tubbo’s sock.</p><p>Tubbo does a double-take, triple-take even, the moment he realizes what he just said. <em> What the hell, why did I just </em> say <em> that?! I just wanted to say yes! What the fuck, what is </em> happening <em> to me? Why did I say that?! What did he do to me! What is wrong with my head!? </em></p><p>At least he succeeded in catching Dream off guard.</p><p>The stick-holder loses concentration for a moment, causing Tubbo’s stance to falter and relax slightly before tensing right back up and standing straight. Dream regains his composure quickly, adjusting his hoodie. “Yeah, well... that’s good! If you keep acting like that, then I won’t have to break this compass,” he holds it up again, “or your bones!” Tubbo recoils, but only in his thoughts. He forgot that was something Dream could do. “And <em> maybe, </em> you could even get your own tent, and not have to live in the cage. Phil and Ranboo, too.”</p><p>Tubbo became apprehensive. “Really?” he questioned slowly, for reassurance.</p><p>“Of course, Tubbo. My toys deserve the best I can give them.” Tubbo smiles awkwardly, he can feel a ‘but’ coming up. “That is,” there it is. “Unless they try to disobey me.” His voice is dark and low now, and Tubbo is afraid again.</p><p>Dream takes the sticks in both hands and, only very slightly, bends one of the corners. It still hurts like a bitch. Tubbo winces, trying to brace himself, but can’t stop pained <em> ah</em>’s from escaping his lips. It’s an unbearably unique pain, not one that Tubbo has ever had the displeasure of feeling before. Naturally, being able to <em> feel </em> your bones <em> bending </em> at their stiffest points like a fucking toothpick, it activates certain pain receptors that have never before had to be activated. Tubbo can’t possibly <em> imagine </em> what it was like for Tommy last night.</p><p>Dream reclaims his attention. “Now, Tubbo. I’m going to put your sticks away, partly because I don’t want to walk you through the whole Nether, and partly because I want to watch you struggle, okay?” Tubbo face drains in color. “You now know exactly what will happen if you disobey. Am I understood?”</p><p>Tubbo tries to avoid saying yes. The last time he tried to say yes, he’d confessed his complete and undying loyalty to the evil who put him in this position. Realizing he can’t respond any other way, he opens his mouth to say yes before being cut short by the feeling of his head nodding for him.</p><p>“Good. You’re on your way out of that dingy cell.” Dream says, accomplished. He slowly puts the sticks away in his inventory and Tubbo’s body finally releases its tension. He takes deep breaths as he claims his body as his own again, sighing in relief when he feels the wad of bad stuff leave the hole in his chest. Tubbo still feels like he needs a repair, a solution, but it still feels better than the horrid patch-job fix that he got all the while Dream was controlling him.</p><p>Tubbo’s relief instantly vanishes when he looks back at Dream to see that he’s holding <em> his </em> sock, and he’s about to wear it. He panics and starts begging. “Nonono, Dream, please, wait! <em> You don’t need to-</em>!”</p><p>His voice stops instantaneously.</p><p>Dream scolds him playfully. “Ah, ah, <em> ah~h! </em> No talking.” His sock-wearing hand is pushed open, revealing the blank, undyed white cloth on the inside of its... <em> mouth. </em> The concept that Dream is <em> wearing </em> Tubbo on his <em> hand </em> makes him queasy to no end, just another aspect of the twisted game he’s playing.</p><p>Immediately following that particularly disturbing train of thought, Tubbo can somehow <em>feel</em> each one of his vocal cords tighten and strain uncomfortably. He reflexively tries to cough the feeling away, moving his throat with the usual motions, but the only thing that comes out is complete silence. Another cough, much more violent this time, still nothing. Tries to clear his throat, more silence. Tubbo is desperately clawing now, scratching at his exposed throat, trying and failing to get it to <em> do </em> something, <em>anything!</em> He falls down on the grass onto his knees, startling himself, and he tries to shout ‘ah!’ in surprise, but when his brain is only greeted by yet more silence, it starts to panic when it doesn’t hear the expected sound.</p><p>He tries to shout, he tries to yell, he tries to scream, <em> nothing. </em> He tries to scream in the highest pitch he can, from the very top of his lungs, and it <em> hurts </em> his throat, running it ragged with utter silence. Tubbo is sobbing, still completely silent, and puts his palms together to beg and plead to Dream to just leave him alone, let him talk, let him <em> do </em> anything! Anything at all! <em>Please!</em></p><p>At least he can still make sounds with his nose as the sobs force his breath to shake intensely through the nostrils.</p><p><em> Please, please, please, Dream! Please let me talk! Please! I am in fucking agony here, please! </em> Tubbo moves his mouth to fit the words, hoping beyond hope that Dream knows how to read his lips. He wouldn’t put it past the green man, he <em>is</em> rather multi-faceted, after all.</p><p>Dream just shakes his head softly. “None of that, either.”</p><p>He closes his sock-covered hand, and with it goes Tubbo’s mouth.</p><p>His lips clamp shut into a thin line, like a fucking <em> cartoon character </em> moving a zipper over its mouth. Tubbo tries to make muffled screams again, but it still doesn’t work, because his voice box is <em> still </em> so painfully taut and strung like over-tuned guitar strings. Now he’s clawing at his lips, fingernails digging into his skin and drawing a bit of blood in a futile attempt to forcefully pry open his jaw like a vice.</p><p>He’s curled up in the fetal position again now, fingers still weakly picking at his lips and tears of fire <em> still </em> somehow pushing their way out of his eyes. Eyes which are now surely sealed shut with the redness that results from prolonged crying and turn the whites of his eyes to bloodshot red. <em> Please, Dream. Please. This is torture, I won’t do anything, you know I won’t, please. I just want to live my life, I’m so scared, Dream, please. I’m scared and everything hurts please just make the pain go away please I’m so scared, so so scared... </em></p><p>Dream crouches down on his feet, sitting on the backs of his ankles, leaning down to Tubbo’s ear to whisper in it. “That was <em> fun.</em>”</p><p>Tubbo tries to whimper in terror. He can’t.</p><p>A few seconds pass until Dream stands back up on his feet, hand still clenched around the cloth of Tubbo’s blasted sock. “Unfortunately for me, it’s time to go. We’ve got a big day ahead of us, Tubbo.”</p><p>Tubbo doesn’t move at all, so Dream waits a few more seconds for him to react.</p><p>Still no movement. Dream starts to scold him. “Tubbo... if you don’t want to get up, I’ll have to <em> make </em> you get up. You don’t want that, do you?”</p><p>No, he doesn't. Tubbo would do anything to prevent the artificial stuffing from filling the empty space which is now present deep in his being, he really would. No matter how badly he wants to rest mentally and allow his body to move for him, the innate feeling granted by the sticks is worse than having to use the effort to move.</p><p>Eventually, the broken boy slowly uncurls his body and struggles to his feet, first digging his elbows in the grass and, with shaking arms, pushes off the dirt. His knees threaten to buckle as he attempts to stand, but he does successfully and shambles towards Dream. He gestures weakly at his now bloody mouth with a pitiful expression, eyes bloodshot and corners puffy, in an attempt to beg for his freedom of speech.</p><p>Dream ignores the plea entirely.</p><p>His voice turns sweet and friendly. Tubbo knows it’s fake, it’s all fake. “Follow me, Tubbo. We’re going through the Nether, and I need to do some vocal exercises. We need to be ready for today’s big speech, <em> Mr. President.</em>”</p><p><em> Shit, we </em> are <em> going to L’Manburg, I knew it. Of course we </em> “Okay.” <em> are, I’m the president, he’s gonna change the country’s fucking laws or- </em></p><p>Wait.</p><p>Did he just talk? Tubbo didn’t even notice the sound echoing in his head, that definitely wasn’t his doing, it-</p><p>It wasn’t his voice.</p><p>Well, it <em> was, </em> but it wasn’t the way he spoke, it was the wrong inflection, the wrong tone, the wrong... well, the accent was right actually, but everything else was wrong.</p><p>It was Tommy’s voice. No, not- it was the way Tommy says ‘okay,’ but with Tubbo’s voice. He would be crying harder than he is right now if this whole thing wasn’t so confusing. Tubbo’s head hurts again.</p><p>Dream sighs. “See, that’s what I was afraid of, I’ve still got too much Tommy in me. Gonna have to change that, can’t be too suspicious in front of so many people.”</p><p>He’s <em> talking </em> for him. Oh, that’s so disgusting, Dream’s words are leaving Tubbo’s mouth. It makes him want to violently wash his mouth out later. No, he can’t even do that, because he can’t <em>open </em> his damn <em> mouth! </em></p><p>This is all so incredibly exhausting, Tubbo just wants to lay down and die.</p><p>But, he can’t. He has to follow Dream, do what he says. Like Phil said, like the plan. He almost forgot about the plan.</p><p>
  <em> Face it, there’s no fucking plan. We lost, we failed. We’re stuck here forever, nobody’s coming to save us, we’re all just gonna be mindless playthings like Tommy. I still haven’t even been able to talk to him yet. He seems happy, though. Deaf to all the shit going on around him, just glad that he’s so... </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Useful. </em>
</p><p>Tubbo doesn’t bother to try thinking about the right stuff instead.</p><p>Dream walks through the Nether portal as Tubbo sulks behind him, dutifully reciting a chorus of <em>ohh</em>’s, <em>aah</em>’s, <em>eee</em>’s, <em>Tubbo</em>’s, and <em> Dream’s toy</em>’s.</p><p>He’s practicing, Dream is <em> practicing. </em></p><p>
  <em> To act more like me. </em>
</p><p>He can’t cry, the all-encompassing heat of the hellish wastes vaporize his tears almost instantly. As he drags his feet along one of the many cobblestone bridges suspended high above the lava, his shaking legs begin to feel more and more like dead weight that must be forcefully pulled by the rest of his body, like skin and muscle is being gradually replaced with cloth and cotton.</p><p>Still chanting seemingly endless words and phrases and sentences, Tubbo peers over the precarious ledge of the narrow bridge.</p><p>He considers jumping.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>tubbo: "AA, EE, OO- <b>audiojungle.</b>"<br/><i>(i'll love you if you get this reference btw)</i></p><p>Welcome to the exceptionally long chapter! This was a (massive for me) 6.5k words, and I don't know how I wrote so much in two days either. call me speedrunner. I mean, I <i>know</i> it was because of how ham I went on the torture scene, (yes i am defining it as torture) but like I didn't know that I would expand on it as much as I did. I actually planned to write a tiny bit of the scene where the first people learn that Tubbo's been sighted back at the SMP, but this chapter is way too long as is.</p><p>Also, if you haven't caught on to the "—o—" break yet, the difference between that and the horizontal line is that the horizontal line signifies a main POV change in any capacity, or a significant amount of timeskip with the same POV. The "—o—" is for any break that I want to put in if it's anything less significant than that.</p><p>Do you guys remember when Tommy said that Tubbo wouldn't last a week in his position? I do, and I almost made this chapter even worse because of it! Can you believe that? The bit at the end where Tubbo gets up off the grass, I originally just wasn't going to have him get up. He would've decided that obeying Dream of his own volition is way worse than just letting Dream control him outright, but both of those things just happen to be exactly what Dream wants. I decided that I'd already fucked over the boy so much, anything more and he really would be Toybo within two days.</p><p>I <i>really</i> love the way I presented the "stick ceremony", (i was originally going to call it "the indoctrination" but that was just so fuckin edgy i couldn't) the way it fucks with your psyche. Clearly, it affects some people more than others, and I like to interpret it as 'eventually you get reduced to your one deepest desire', or the like, no matter how corny that may sound.</p><p>Thank you for the continued support, everyone who reads this little passion project. We are really getting close to the climax here, where Dream's plan is seeing its full effect, so stick around. I'm considering writing that side-fic, the one that takes place during the one month of exile before Tubbo's visit. Next chapter will be Dream and Tubbo in L'Manburg and the antics they get up to together.</p><p>Edit: <b>BOYS!! WE GOT FANART!!</b> I LOVE IT SO MUCHHH I'M POPPIN OFF<br/><a href="https://twitter.com/lilacadaisy/status/1359692777110577152">DREAM PRESENTING TOY LET'S GOO</a></p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0013"><h2>13. The Puppet Rulers</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>There are two leaders of the two most powerful territories on the SMP, but they both answer to the same higher power.<br/>Dream will go to any length he so pleases to keep it that way.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>First of all, <b>make sure you've read chapter 12!</b> AO3 was being fucky when I posted that chapter, and I don't think many people saw it compared to the rest of the chapters.<br/>Also, the end notes of that chapter has fanart! My first one! I know, I didn't think I would get any either! <b>#brokentoysfanart on twitter,</b> I will be checking it daily. You can dm me your art on twitter if its on a different platform, @higuy258.</p><p>oh right lmao i almost forgot, this chapter does a bit of what the folks like to call "pushing the envelope," and as such i have tested the waters with a fairly vague and nondescript tubbo showering and dressing scene. you're all big kids, right? you've bathed before, surely (just know that it was originally a bit more descriptive, particularly when tubbo realizes that tommy can't dress himself) ((that part was also me venting about realizing irl that he can't dress himself))<br/>with this chapter i've decided to give it a mature rating, which i might as well do now since i'm planning on writing a rather brutal cow mutilation scene for technoblade (chat likes it)</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Puffy has been a citizen in the SMP for much longer than most people were aware of. In truth, the horned sheep hybrid has been a part of the Greater Dream SMP ever since the Manburg Festival. Eret had seen the carnage firsthand that took place during the absolute disaster that had the gall to call itself a celebration of democracy, so, seeing the turmoil happening between the country and its rebellion, he recruited many new guards to the borders of the faction to keep its inhabitants safe. Puffy was one of those guards. She had steadily risen the ranks, eventually becoming a lieutenant, and likely the best one they had at the time. While she was hard at work to attain the coveted rank of Captain, however, the ongoing war between Pogtopia and Manburg came to a climax, and the whole faction was on edge.</p><p>Naturally, it was due to the unlawful dethroning of King Eret. Puffy had been the first person he went to for help, as they had become somewhat good friends by that time, he knew where she was at the moment. He needed protection. Now that George was the king, anyone who wanted Eret gone permanently would take their shot while he had been completely stripped of his prestige, so Puffy agreed to shelter him while the commotion about all of it slowly died down.</p><p>Eret had gotten to know Puffy a great deal during that time, and they became great friends to one another when she found out how much grief the royalty kept hidden away in his system. He had betrayed his friends dearly, during the middle of a revolution that he helped create, and while the ultimate goal was to use his new position of power to allow the freedom of revolutionary L’Manburg, none of his fellow soldiers saw it that way. To them, it was a coldhearted power-grab that he had taken without a moment’s notice when he realized how defeated they were.</p><p>To make matters worse, Eret had been given the crown in a fake show of loyalty from Dream. The truth of the matter was that the mask still held all the power, and he was sure to prove that to everyone who would listen.</p><p>He would prove it by removing his crown entirely.</p><p>All he wanted to do was reconnect with his fellow men, in Pogtopia. He felt so terrible about what he’d done, every one of his four comrades had lost their first life to his brutally backfiring mistake. He saw that either Manburg or Pogtopia would surely cease to exist after the war they were planning, so granting them his assistance in their final fight was the last opportunity he had to try to make it up to all of them.</p><p>Eret found himself under the protection of a good friend and trusted lieutenant, under the roof of her home in the residential area of the faction, behind the castle. Every house looked the same, and he practically never left the house, so he was in good hands. Such good hands, in fact, that he vowed to appoint her as his guard captain, if he ever reclaimed the throne. Luckily for her, that’s just what he did, and Eret knighted her the very same day.</p><p>She’d done it, she was the captain of the castle guard, and by extension, every guard in the whole territory also ultimately answered to her. She could finally relax and get to know more people around the rest of the SMP, and that’s just what she did. During her time with the former and now once again current king, Puffy realized just how much she liked to help other people get past their grievances and woes through therapy. So, she got to know a lot about the other people in the area.</p><p>And what better way to get to know people than setting up a flower shop? Everyone likes flowers, especially Niki, so that’s who she started the business with. Not to mention it was right next to the ice cream parlor, which is another thing that everybody likes. Needless to say, Puffy was able to meet a lot of people and learn a lot of the history that she missed. She heard all about the indelible friendship of Tommy and Tubbo, who were  also brothers, as well as the vinyl music discs which bound them together. She learned of the rest of their family, the caring father who had arrived recently, and the distant twin brothers Technoblade and Wilbur, one distant by location and family ties, and the other by his death. Puffy resolved to keep an eye on that family particularly, they obviously had a plethora of troubles to overcome and bonds to mend.</p><p>Puffy heard about Eret’s betrayal from a much different perspective, namely Tubbo and Fundy, and learned about Fundy’s adoption by Wilbur one day when a young teen fox hybrid appeared within the walls of the revolution. Wilbur loved to joke about how he had him as a baby with a salmon named Sally, yet no matter how hard he tried to convince people, they never believed him, not really. Thanks to his fox hybrid genes, he quickly grew to young adulthood by the time the final battle for Manburg came around, yet stagnated at around 18-19 years old, seemingly returning to a normal aging process.</p><p>From George and Sapnap, she discovered the long-forsaken friendship of their trio with Dream. They had been something of a team with Dream leading the charge each time, before he appeared to abandon everyone and everything he ever cared about overnight. They hadn’t noticed it at first, but foresight is 20-20, and the two put the pieces together between Tommy’s exile conflict and removing George as king. It was almost like the only reason George was named king in the first place was to evict the boy, and when that was finished, the colorblind king was tossed aside.</p><p>She heard the aggressive friendship between Karl, Sapnap, and Quackity, one that bordered on romantic. She listened to BadBoyHalo express his admiration for Skeppy, a close relationship which somehow skipped over romantic and went straight to a soul-bond where they shared each of three lives. She knew about Ranboo and the role he reluctantly played in Tommy’s exile, how grateful the hybrid was that Tommy placed the blame solely on himself. It was difficult to learn much from Ghostbur.</p><p>Puffy considered herself to be quite the social butterfly, but getting to know so many people in the lands had easily distracted her from the official work she had to do at the moment.</p><p>The captain of the royal guard is in her office, trying and failing to get a bit of paperwork done, something about the recommendation of a penalty on a certain absent-minded guard. Most of the work like this was left to the more bureaucratic sector of the castle, but as a Captain, Puffy still has a bit for herself. It’s hard to concentrate, all she can think about was a panicked Ghostbur meeting her and Eret at the castle, something she wasn’t even sure if the spirit remembered the direction to.</p><p>The ghost was only slightly panicked, but it still worried her, because Ghostbur was always so blissfully unaware any time they interacted. It was quite off-putting, so of course Eret had immediately ordered every guard positioned on one of their watchtowers to keep a lookout for either Tubbo, Philza, Ranboo, or even Dream, and report back to their superiors immediately. Eret personally ensured that the lookouts on the coast were particularly vigilant, since he predicted they would return by sea, if at all.</p><p>At the moment, that superior was Puffy herself, since Eret was currently preparing with Fundy, Quackity, Niki, and Ghostbur to go look for the missing persons. The group promised to, after all, if none of them showed up that morning, and none of them have.</p><p>The sheep hybrid was taken from her thoughts at the sound of fast-paced footsteps coming down the hall, over to her open door. She glanced up at the doorway just in time to see one of her lieutenants rush over and salute with a heel click. A salute wasn’t a normal greeting for a territory run like a kingdom, where Eret was the king, but he had insisted very early on that they adopt various aspects from the military. He instated them as a nod to the revolution he gave up for the position of royalty, and those formalities were chief among them.</p><p>“Captain Puffy, ma’am!” The lieutenant said obediently.</p><p>“At ease,” his body relaxes. Dan, his name was. “What is it, Dan? I’m a bit busy right now.” Puffy responds tiredly. She’d been given more work than normally, seeing as Eret was planning to be away from the castle for the day.</p><p>“Captain, it’s Dream and the young president Tubbo, they’ve been spotted in the SMP.”</p><p><em> That </em> got her attention. Puffy’s eyes widen a bit and she stands up out of her desk. “<em>What? </em> They were spotted together? How far from the coast are they?”</p><p>The question gave Dan pause. “Well, that’s just it. They were spotted to the east, from the direction of the Nether portal. I came over as soon as I heard about it.”</p><p>Puffy was shocked, but resolved to keep her cool. “How long ago were they sighted? Where were they going?”</p><p>“Well, they were only spotted by a guard on the eastern parapet, and it was, er, thirty minutes ago.” He wears a sheepish grin at the end of the response.</p><p>Exasperated, Puffy shouts, “Thirty minutes?? They could be anywhere by now! Why didn’t you come tell me sooner?” The Dream SMP wasn’t very big, with enough ender pearls or a horse you could scale the whole land in about an hour, but the distance between all the important landmarks is much shorter.</p><p>Dan is quick to explain himself. “Well, more like forty, now. I came over here as fast as I could, it was the guard on the wall that was late! I went around hourly as I normally do, ordering updates, and <em> apparently </em> this guy assumed that, since the president was with Dream, we would already know. Don’t worry, I’ve given him janitorial duty for the next two weeks.”</p><p>Puffy thinks quickly, deciding what to do. “That’s good and all, but I need to go, now! I’ll whisper Eret, tell him to put a hold on the search party, but I’m going over there. Stay here, lieutenant, look after things in my absence.” She says commandingly.</p><p>The lieutenant salutes again. “Right away, Captain! Be safe out there.” She nods.</p><p class="whisper">You whisper to The_Eret: just got word that Tubbo and Dream have been spotted coming from the nether portal<br/>
The_Eret whispers to you: I was just about to message you, we saw them like 10 minutes ago, they went into the white house<br/>
You whisper to The_Eret: WHAT??/<br/>
The_Eret whispers to you: Yeah, sorry, I was still trying to wrap my head around it myself<br/>
The_Eret whispers to you: We all got a L’Manburg official broadcast, he’s gonna give an announcement in a little less than an hour.<br/>
You whisper to The_Eret: i’ll be right over</p>
<hr/><p>“Alright Tubbo, since you’ve been such a good sport in helping me practice, I’m going to <em> tell </em> you that I’m going to take out your sticks. But first, I’m going to let you tell me how you feel.”</p><p>After what looks like pondering for a few seconds on the prompt, Tubbo nods.</p><p>“Good! Now, how do you feel?” Dream lets his hand go slack, finally granting Tubbo control of his mouth once again. He instantly moves his hand to massage the sore muscles and re-adjust the jaw back to a more comfortable state.</p><p>Tubbo’s voice is cracking with overuse since they entered the Nether a bit more than an hour ago. “I feel... <em> scared, </em> mostly. Scared of... of what’s going to happen. W-When we get to L- L’Manburg, I-I mean. What you’re gonna m-make me do, on the... the podium.”</p><p>That... was a response. Dream felt a tiny bit conflicted. What was it about Tubbo that got everyone pitying him so much? He’s worried it might be affecting him, too, and he can’t afford to feel things now, not when he’s so close to his goal! He grins his sly grin, somewhat reactivating the personality he’s come to know and love, deepening his voice to intimidate the president.  “Yes, Tubbo, you <em> should </em> be scared.”</p><p>Hearing that apparently only serves to make him look more horrified of his mask-clad self. <em> God damn, I really need to stop interacting with Tubbo. He’s well on his way to making me go soft. </em> The kid looks like he might cry just from hearing Dream’s follow-up to his initial question, if they weren’t still in the Nether, standing in front of the swirling purple vortices of the obsidian portal. It’s pathetic, really, just how much <em> sobbing </em> he’s been doing. It’s to the point where Dream might need to hide his eyes, in case the onlookers notice how distressed he is.</p><p>Dream <em> hates </em> it.</p><p>He hates that his fucking plan isn’t going perfectly, <em> again. </em> He’s been working so hard, so many hours, so many days, for everything to be completely <em> perfect. </em> But it isn’t. Tommy was completely broken, inside and out, in virtually every way possible, but that isn’t a problem anymore, his favorite toy has served his purpose. In fact, Dream doesn’t really consider Tommy his favorite anymore. That title has shifted to Tubbo. Maybe he could tell Tommy that he’s no longer Dream’s favorite, that would surely send him over the brink of sanity, leaving him to rot in his own festering thoughts and desires until it was fit to discard the empty husk for an eternity.</p><p>However, <em> other </em> people still cared about Tommy a great deal, so Dream would let him cling onto that feeling of favoritism for a little while longer. He would remain <em> useful, </em> for the time being. But mark his words, the moment he ceases to be of any use to Dream, Tommy will be thrown aside, probably fed on by wild animals.</p><p>The thing Dream hated the most was Tubbo. That puny <em> bug </em> somehow convinced himself that he had the wherewithal to declare Tommy as <em> his </em> belonging, while the complete inverse was true. He belonged to Dream, and nobody else. <em> Nobody. </em> He proved that when he claimed the silly compass as his own property, ripping the remaining vestiges of ownership away from him. Tubbo was now Dream’s toy, and his toy, <em> Tubbo does not own. </em></p><p>Dream felt <em> good, </em> reminding himself of that affirmation. The true problem with the boy president, however, was how easily he appeared to <em> break </em> under the influence of the sticks’ enchantment. Tommy survived a fucking month! Tubbo could barely last <em> two shitting hours! </em> It made him want to turn around and punch Tubbo across the face himself, just as he made Tommy do three days ago. Tubbo broke so easily that he probably couldn’t even try to hide what was happening to him, and that aggravated Dream to no end. He simply didn’t expect Tubbo to be so weak and frail, especially when he had seemed so strong and commanding during Tommy’s exile.</p><p><em> Maybe, </em> Dream thought, <em> I’m </em> too <em> good at breaking my toys. </em></p><p>Dream’s grin widens madly between his cheeks.</p><p>Maybe that isn’t such a bad thing.</p>
<hr/><p>“Tubbo, I’m going to start using your sticks and sock now.” Dream warns.</p><p>Tubbo continues wearing the same resigned look that he had for the past hour in the Nether with ease. “M’kay...” he mumbles.</p><p>Promptly, he feels his lips seal and fake stuffing fill the void inside him, just as poor an imitation as it was before. It still feels so wrong, why won’t Dream give him back his real stuff, the stuff he had before all this started, please. He just wants to feel complete again...</p><p>As they finally leave the threatening heat of the Nether, Tubbo can’t help but wonder about just what Dream is planning to make him say at L’Manburg. He remembers that he isn’t wearing his navy suit with gold tassels, so they’ll have to go to the white house for a clean one. Besides, the rest of his clothes are filthy as well, Tubbo should probably just change all of them.</p><p>Oh god, if he refused to do that and kept on the dirty clothes, giving the citizens a hint that something was wrong with the situation, then Dream would have to... no, no. Tubbo simply refuses to think about that, he would probably die just from the embarrassment alone which would originate from <em> that </em> happening. In fact, he would likely <em> rather </em> die than have to go through that particular humiliation. Agreeing to dress himself is truthfully the only option, and Tubbo intends to keep it that way.</p><p>He isn’t just some kind of... <em> doll, </em> for Dream to toy around with, this isn’t some sick game of <em> Dress-up the President, </em> or anything like that, this is Tubbo’s very own <em> life! </em> Who does Dream think he is, stealing people’s lives as his own property, <em> using </em> them for his own demented personal gain, rebranding <em> people </em> as his toys, playthings, or- <em> dolls? </em> Tubbo tried to feel angry, to feel outraged at the painted face, but then he realized what he had just thought, and all his emotions went right back to scared.</p><p>Dream never called Tubbo his doll. He simply convinced himself that he had. In essence, Tubbo called <em> himself </em> a doll, and that shook him to his core.</p><p>Tubbo cursed at himself in his own thoughts. Why<em> am I so scared? I know I’m not the bravest guy, but this is ridiculous, I’ve never felt like this before! I get that Dream is really goddamn terrifying, but even when I’m </em> trying <em> to be angry, I’m just scared! It’s been hours since Dream possessed me, I should be feeling more than </em> one <em> thing! Is he even aware of what those fucking </em> sticks <em> are doing to me?! </em></p><p>Tubbo is filled with fear when he considers that maybe, he isn’t.</p><p>As Dream walks him over to the white house on the horizon, Tubbo closes his eyes and repeats his personal mantra to himself. <em> You are Tubbo, president of New L’Manburg. You are not Dream’s toy, you are your own person. You also aren’t his doll, either. You aren’t his stuff, and you have your own stuff. You’re Tubbo, the president, not a toy, not a doll, not stuff. Not a toy, not a doll, not stuff... </em></p><p>—o—</p><p>All things considered, Tubbo is feeling great.</p><p>First of all, thank <em> god </em> Dream gave him his privacy to get ready for the announcement, he very well could have done just the opposite. He can’t imagine what sort of thoughts his brain would have wandered to if he had been under that sort of humiliation, what lows he would succumb to just to reclaim some semblance of freedom. On the other hand, the idea that Tubbo had to be <em> allowed </em> his own privacy was extremely demoralizing in and of itself, not to mention he assumed that Dream had probably done that intentionally.</p><p>Dream had forced Tubbo to send an official L’Manburg announcement soon after they arrived at the white house, which would broadcast to everyone’s communicator who was a citizen of the country in one way or another, even Eret. After everything, the king of the enemy faction was his friend, and as such, he agreed to add a special subscription to his device after he pledged to assist Pogtopia in the Battle for Manburg. Besides, he was no longer the king at the time, just another ally and citizen.</p><p>Tubbo was inside his bedroom now, removing his current, sweat-stained shirt which held several harsh reminders about Tubbo’s body. He had giant burn scars which displayed across his entire chest and grazed his arms, ending just above his waist and halfway up his neck, a stark reminder of the burning fireworks of the Manburg Festival. It wasn’t painful, since the damage was done and the damage had killed him, so all that remained was a huge mark which represented the fatal injury. He also has a much smaller, yet still prominent, clean stab wound right through his gut, which was from the Final Control Room. That mortal wound hurt a lot more than the firework, simply because he died only once he bled out from the hole in his chest, while the fireworks had incinerated him almost instantly. The third and final painful memory laid on Tubbo’s left wrist. It was completely empty, missing a compass.</p><p>Discarding the rest of his clothes, he resolved to throw them out at some point, hopefully burn them to ashes. He didn’t want any reminders of the torment he went through in such a short time.</p><p>Stepping out of the presidential bedroom, all ready for the announcement he’ll be forced to give soon, Tubbo feels much better than he had before he got to the white house. Out of the large dresser, he’d grabbed a new, clean pair of navy blue dress pants, matching buttoned suit with gold epaulets, red tie, white dress shirt, socks, and even shoes and boxer shorts to change into. He was even able to take a shower! Tubbo spent a good thirty minutes in the shower, just relaxing under the warm water, and once he was dry, he got dressed feeling like a new man, his own man, all clean and proper. He combed his already naturally straight hair with his fingers.</p><p>The positive experience almost let him forget that his mouth was sealed the entire time. Almost.</p><p>As he had stepped out of the door, he noticed Dream holding a wooden bowl filled with something. It looked kinda like food, reminding Tubbo just how long it had been since he last ate.</p><p>“Wow, Tubbo! I can’t believe how much more presentable my toy looks now after just one shower. It’s like you’re brand new again.” Dream compliments dryly.</p><p>Tubbo cringes. He’s not supposed to look <em> brand new, </em> he’s supposed to look proper and official! Brand new is something you would refer to an item as, and he isn’t an item. He isn’t a toy.</p><p>He reminds himself of his mantra, but the affirmation feels weaker this time around.</p><p>Tubbo points to the bowl Dream’s holding, questioning what it’s for, and luckily Dream picks up on the movement of his arms. “Oh, this? It’s just a mixture of a few dyes and some water, it’s skin-colored. Come here and sit still, I’m going to put some around your eyes, to hide those pink corners from all your pitiful crying.” He responds simply.</p><p>Tubbo nods in agreement. If he refused, Dream would simply force him to comply anyway.</p><p>So, with the boy sitting at the table next to him, Dream gets to work, scooping a bit of the paste and dabbing bits of it onto his face. He’s just making sure Tubbo doesn’t look too suspicious, that he’s presentable in front of a crowd.</p><p>So Dream can show him off to everyone, let them all see his perfect toy, let them admire the <em> work </em> he’s done on him.</p><p>Tubbo <em> really </em> feels like a doll now. The porcelain smile is essentially applying makeup, covering any impurities in his face, namely irritations from tears. Dream is probably going to take the time to parade him around to everyone like a pretty little trophy, done up in just the way Dream so pleases, to revel in the feeling of control over the entire nation as well.</p><p>Sadly, he’s forced to comply, Tubbo knows what will happen to him and others if he doesn’t. He goes along with it until he doesn’t have an option to anymore, until Dream takes hold of his sticks and moves him to the podium.</p><p>Which apparently, is happening right now. “And... done! You look <em> perfect, </em> my little president.” The words are affectionate, but the tone has a wicked excitement to it. “I don’t want you to communicate something to everyone or anything like that, so I’ll be using your sticks and giving the announcement <em> for </em> you.”</p><p>Tubbo tries to nod, but his head gets stuck in the middle of the first motion. The sticks are active.</p><p>In this moment Tubbo’s entire being is reduced to his eyes and his thoughts.</p><p>Arms opening the doors, legs walking through the doorway, Tubbo sees a decent crowd of people standing or sitting at the plaza below, surrounded on multiple sides by temporarily unmanned stalls filled with miscellaneous goods, even including one that doubles as a music-making station. Scanning the crowd, he sees numerous small families he doesn’t recognize, or just couples or groups of friends, assuming they’re just citizens he doesn’t know personally, but there’s also a number of people he does recognize.</p><p>Standing generally in front of the crowd is Quackity and Fundy, who look to be calming the commotion in the crowd. Tubbo’s two friends are part of the cabinet after all, it’s their duty to help keep the peace, among other things. L’Manburg has never really been wealthy enough to fund its own armed forces, even if it would just be utilized to guard the country.</p><p>Looking through the rest of the forty or so people, Tubbo can spot Skeppy and Bad a bit to the right, standing as close to each other as they ever do. In the back is Eret, Puffy, and Ghostbur, who also brought Friend the blue sheep along with him. The ghost loved that sheep like a part of his ever-growing family, it was adorable, really. Near the front is Niki, looking very worried and a bit ticked-off that Dream is following Tubbo out to the podium, she did always hate people who were in absolute power like Schlatt was. Tubbo even saw Jack Manifold, and he was with... Sapnap? That’s a rather odd pairing, they must’ve just been in the area and happened to join the crowd, Jack was always off on his own thing basically every day and Sapnap was not even a member of L’Manburg, so the pairing was a rare sight indeed. Finally, next to the far corner stood Sam and Ponk, old friends who arrived soon after Dream himself had.</p><p>Tubbo suddenly felt his mouth open and vocal cords fluctuate. It wasn’t his doing.</p><p>“My fellow citizens of New L’Manburg,” his tone is somber, and that makes Tubbo scared, because a somber tone means that he isn’t going to like what Dream makes him say. <em> How much lying am I gonna do here? </em></p><p>“I come bearing grave news.” <em> Oh, no. </em> “I may not have told all of you, but two days ago, I left the country to visit the former vice president and my friend, TommyInnit, in exile.” Tubbo cringed, but it could only be seen in his eyes, and he assumed the crowd was too far away from the podium to notice it, anyway. “I had set it up with Dream,” he gestures to the green man standing behind him, who bows slightly, “in an attempt to reconnect and assess whether or not he was ready to return to the Dream SMP. Unfortunately, he was not. He was still very angry at me, he- he screamed at me, telling me to leave, and when I didn’t, he a-attacked me.” He hears various gasps emanate from the crowd.</p><p>Tubbo’s voice had started to break in certain places, and he suddenly tips his head down in an attempt to hide tears that aren’t quite flowing yet. Dream is frighteningly good at this act, knowing the masked man, he’s probably rehearsed it several times over. <em> Well, I haven’t necessarily lied yet... </em></p><p>That would soon change. Tubbo acts as he regains his composure, letting out a sigh. “I rushed back here as soon as I could, and the next day, I returned to his living space accompanied by Philza and Ranboo. That’s when things... took a turn. As I entered the Nether portal to his lands,” <em> Wait, portal? </em> “Tommy was- he was ready to... <em> ambush </em> me.” <em> No, wait, no no- </em> “He had a weapon, but he was w-weak from isolation, and I- I acted in s-self-defense...” <em> No, stop lying! Please! They have to see that this isn’t true! </em></p><p>Tubbo knows that’s coming next, and painful tears start to form in his eyes, when his head suddenly ducks its face down into his elbow, and he makes soft sobbing noises. He isn’t actually the one sobbing, but he probably would be anyway if he had control of himself.</p><p>He barely looks up from his elbow. “TommyInnit is... <em> dead! </em> ” The sobbing noises get louder and the tears start flowing more freely, however painful. <em> No! No, he’s alive! He is! He’s just... not himself, right now... </em></p><p>The crowd is probably reacting to it again, but Tubbo feels like he can’t pay attention with so many conflicting thoughts ensnaring his head, confusing him.</p><p>He feels his lips completely seize up once more, and Dream is walking over to him, putting a comforting hand on his shoulder, but the gesture provides no actual comfort. “I’ll take it from here, Mr. President.” </p>
<hr/><p>Eret can’t believe what he’s hearing. Tommy is <em> dead? </em> And he was slain <em> by Tubbo?? </em> Even in self-defense, that story seemed too fantastical to be the truth. He’s aware that his exile lands are much too far away from the grid to send a death message, but the thought of Tubbo even accidentally killing his best friend is too much to wrap the king’s crown-wearing head around.</p><p>He thinks back to the time during the revolution, all those months ago, where the first of Tommy’s deaths was <em> his </em> own doing. Not by his hand, no, but it was still his actions that allowed it to happen.</p><p>The ghost of Tommy’s brother isn’t taking the news well either. Eret glances to the ghost, whose cheerful facade had been completely abandoned, replaced with a horrified look on his pale face, and he was muttering to himself. <span class="ghostbur">“No. <em>No, no...</em> Toms is... <em>dead?</em> Because of <em>Tubbo?</em> No, that- that can’t be right, he w-would never, that can’t... no, no...”</span> Eret sees his spectral form begin to disintegrate near the edges, tightly clutching a significant amount of very dark blue.</p><p>The king acts fast. “Wil- Ghostbur, look at me. Calm down Ghostbur, please, you’re starting to vanish.” He keeps trying to get his attention, even taking his sunglasses off, until transparent blank eyes are looking back at sharp, blindingly white ones. He pulls his former ally away from the rest of the crowd.</p><p>Ghostbur seems to collect his thoughts with difficulty, just enough to speak his mind clearly. <span class="ghostbur">“Eret, why- how did this happen? He was just on vacation, I know, I was there, I- i built the camp! Tubbo said Tommy was a-angry, violent, was he- was he like Alivebur? Did Tubbo have to kill him like Ph-Phil did?” The ghost tries wearing a sad smile.</span></p><p>“I- we don’t know, Ghostbur, nobody does. I don’t think the Alivebur thing is true, but I don’t believe what he said is the truth either. Listen- the first time Tubbo came back to the SMP, he was resting in the infirmary, outside my castle. They said something was wrong with Tommy, they were going on a rescue mission, Ghostbur. A <em> rescue </em> mission. Tubbo might just not have mentioned me, but he knows that I know about it.” Eret’s voice is calm, but make no mistake, he is frantic with the pile of suspicious information that he was just given.</p><p>Ghostbur seems to calm down by the end of Eret’s reassurances, body reforming slightly and a tiny smile graces his gray face for a moment. <span class="ghostbur">“You’re, you’re right, we- we just need more information! Eret, do you... do you think that Tommy is, a-alive?”</span> he asks the regal man with hope in his echoey specter’s voice.</p><p>Eret sighs, voice sounding defeated. “Truthfully, Ghostbur, I don’t know.” The phantom in question frowns with disappointment. “He could very well be another ghost by now, but what I do believe is that <em> someone </em> involved here is lying. I don’t believe Tubbo killed Tommy, he would <em> never </em> do that, but it is <em> possible </em> that Tubbo is covering for whoever did. We need to talk to him face to face, and I don’t believe anything that comes out of <em> Dream’s </em> mouth.” The ruler of the castle ends the statement with a spitting conviction.</p><p>They both turn back to the podium to find that Tubbo and Dream are both absent from the podium they were previously positioned on. The crowd is also beginning to disperse, and Puffy is walking towards them.</p><p>Eret pipes up, a bit anxious. “Puffy, is the announcement over? What did they say while I was calming Ghostbur?”</p><p>Puffy looks like she’s still somewhat stunned by what they said. “Well, Dream took Tubbo’s place on the microphone, and of course he said that Tubbo was distraught, but that Philza and Ranboo were so angry that he killed Tommy that- they just... left! He said Philza brought Ranboo to Technoblade’s house to live in the same area! Tubbo was so thankful that Dream had sympathized about Tommy’s death that they returned to L’Manburg together!”</p><p>Ghostbur is the first to speak on that. <span class="ghostbur">“Oh! Well, that’s good. I suspected Dream would feel like that, the three of us always did get along together while Tommy was on vacation.”</span> He’s fully smiling now, relieved to hear something he understands, and turns back to his blue pet sheep. <span class="ghostbur">“Come on Friend, let’s get your lead on a fence, I don’t want you wandering off again, you little rascal.”</span></p><p>Eret is thoroughly shocked, barely able to comprehend what either Puffy or his ghostly friend just said. “Hold on, Ghostbur. Puffy, quite frankly, that does not sound like Dream one bit. I’m not sure the man is <em> capable </em> of sympathy. You remember how bad George and Sapnap felt after he made me king again, surely. How scared <em> I </em> felt when he made George king! We <em> have </em> to talk with Tubbo, right now.”</p><p>The guard captain interrupts him. “Eret, wait! That’s... not all Dream said. He- he said that Tubbo named him an official citizen of L’Manburg. Eret- he was offered a position in the country. Tubbo confirmed all of it in writing. Dream is a member of the <em> cabinet </em> now, Eret.”</p><p>His blank eyes nearly fell out of his head. “<em>What?! </em>” he breathes.</p><p>The pieces of the puzzle fit together now. Whatever scheme Dream just followed through with, the masked man had just power over the two largest territories in the SMP, and they were now both in the palm of his hands <em> at the same time. </em></p><p>Quickly coming to his senses, Eret commands Puffy and Ghostbur. “Ghostbur, come. We need to go talk to Tubbo,<em> now.</em>”</p><p>Ghostbur looks confused. <span class="ghostbur">“How come? What’s wrong with Tubbo? Does he need some blue? Do <em>you</em> need some blue? Never mind, here’s some blue anyway.”</span></p><p>Eret is exasperated. “God damnit, Ghostbur, did you really forget already? We just listened to the special announcement, Tubbo said Tommy is <em> dead, </em> we think they’re lying, and we need to go talk to him <em> now! </em>”</p><p>His pale face shifts through about six different emotions in the following three seconds. <span class="ghostbur">“Oh, I- I remember now. I’m very sorry, let’s go find Tubbo now”</span></p><p>The three unlikely allies first wait for Ghostbur to finish tying up Friend’s lead onto a wooden pole, then rush over to the white house behind the roofless spruce podium before being stopped in their tracks along the path by Quackity and Fundy.</p><p>Eret is quick to address them. “Gentlemen, step aside please, we have to talk to Tubbo.” He orders coolly, with his best royalty voice.</p><p>Ghostbur drifts out from behind Eret his body to the side and waves at the two cabinet members. <span class="ghostbur">“Hello, Big Q! Hello, son!”</span> Neither of the two guards acknowledge him.</p><p>Quackity, always the first one to take a leadership position, speaks up first against the king. “Eret, what the <em> hell </em> makes you think I’ll let you, the ruler of the enemy nation, talk to Tubbo? He said he doesn’t wanna be disturbed right now. Why are you here, anyway? Shouldn’t <em> his highness </em> be on his precious golden throne right now?”</p><p>Before Eret can respond, the young adult fox hybrid interjects, putting a hand on the other’s blue track jacket. “Quackity, calm down! I know you hate Dream, and you hate that he’s in the cabinet now, but Eret is Tubbo’s friend, he’s a good guy.” Quackity relaxes slightly, shrugging off Fundy’s paw. The furry face turns back towards Eret. “But, he did say he wanted privacy, so I won't let you see him just yet. I’ll go tell them you’re here.”</p><p>He walks back to the white house, too far away to hear, but they can see he’s knocking on the front door. Quackity is still standing in front of them, adamant about not letting them pass to see the president.</p><p>The long seconds of awkward silence are broken by Ghostbur. <span class="ghostbur">“Quackity, would you like some blue?”</span> He asks affectionately.</p><p>Quackity is wholly unamused. “Ghostbur, this is not the time for games. I don’t want your goddamn blue.”</p><p>A dejected look appears on the gray face. <span class="ghostbur">“Oh... okay.”</span></p><p>Suddenly, Fundy barges back into the small group, running as fast as he can and panting to catch his breath before speaking.</p><p>“<em>They’re gone.</em>”</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>bonus points if you're old enough to get the reference of naming a character lieutenant dan (for comparison I am turning 23 this september)</p><p>Well, this chapter simply did not want to get written  at multiple points during it! Dream was getting too soft from Tubbo at first and I was really trying hard to come up with a speech that sounded like he was being believable. For the latter, I just used what we in the business like to call a "cop out" and just let Puffy recap the second half. When I really decided what the speech was going to be, though, writing the rest was real easy.</p><p>As you can probably see, this is where Dream's plan really starts to come to fruition. He still has many more tricks (and sticks) up his hoodie sleeve. Sure the master plan might be coming apart slightly at the seams, but it's nothing he can't stitch back together.<br/>hold up that line's really good i need to remember that for later</p><p>Thanks for all the support and 1 (one) fanart! I'm still so glad I get to say that. Here's a sneak peek to the future of the story: there's going to be a plot point soon-ish that concerns tommy getting his mind fixed, and it comes way out of left field. I sincerely doubt any of you will see it coming. Next chapter will be just a continuation of this current search party arc.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0014"><h2>14. To See the World through Sewn-on Eyes</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>When you're forced into a life of servitude, forced into a soft body full of stuffing, forced to be an object for a man in a mask, you don't stay the same person you were before.<br/>For some, the change is more drastic as opposed to others'.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>This chapter includes beheading and aspects of physical abuse, among other things. I kinda went all out with the newly mature rating. Keep a watch on the tags!</p><p>Also, if you haven’t already, go read Reclaimed Toys first! (Third fic in the series) It’s finished (for now) and I think in multiple ways it’s just as good as this fic.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Toy feel happy!</p><p>Food is useful, eat is good.</p><p>Using food make thinks more easy. Toy got food, Dream’s food. He say, uh... “here your food,” but... that not true. Not It’s food, Dream’s food! Owner’s food. Toy not food’s owner, It not owner, It is owned. Silly owner! His food.</p><p>Toy’s thinks come easier. Food let It think! Food make It useful. Dream say he make new friends, but... Dream is friend. Why he make more? Is Toy bad? Is It not... useful? No, no, no! Bad think! Go away! Toy is useful! Yes. Is useful. Not bad. Dream say so, when Toy move friend, on the... ta- ble. Table! Yes, Dream say It useful, Toy help him make at table.</p><p>Oh! Toy is useful, so It get friends! It gets food. Food let that think come, that think was hard.</p><p>Dream make more toys. Toy happy for him, got more play things for playing. It meet first toy, black white, color eyes. Look funny! But It call Toy bad name. Try tell it good name, but too loud. No loud! Head hurt! Dream name it... ran- bow? Rainbow? Yeah, Rainbow. Funny name.</p><p>First toy have funny face, funny name! Not good as Toy’s name. Toy better, It Dream’s favorite. Rainbow not talk after, make Toy sad. It wanna meet friends! Dream’s new toy, it must be happy, he give new life, Rainbow can useful. Toy can’t think new toy’s thinks, but must be happy to be Dream’s useful.</p><p>Toy and Dream go back, second new toy! Old thing, It hope old toy not broken, that bad. Dream would mad, It not like mad. Mad loud, loud make It’s head hurt. Hurt bad! Don’t loud.</p><p>Dream call old toy... Fill, but name got it mad. But not loud, good. Loud bad. Why old toy mad? Dream gave life, he good! He make good thing, good toy, useful toy. Toy want Fill to be happy, but on table, it mad. Dream’s sticks, it more mad. Make angry sound, like doggy! Grrr! Funny sound. Fill toy, not dog! Silly new old toy, make wrong noise.</p><p>Toy is good, Toy is useful. It do useful thing, do quiet noise. Shhh! Talk useful when Dream let talk. Fill must want useful, useful is good. If toys useful, toys get food, get new friends. Why old toy not want useful? Only angry.</p><p>Third new toy, it young. Young, like Toy! Small, not like Toy. Toy is big, a big man! New toy is small, not like Toy. It like that, It like to feel... big.</p><p>Toy is, a big... man? Why It think that? It feels big? No, no, weird thinks, this thinks are bad thinks! Head hurt, head hurt! Dream, help! Toy not man, Dream man! Toy toy, Toy is useful, these thinks not useful, thinks hurt!</p><p>Toy take young toy, It useful, take to table. It useful! Not man! Dream’s stop, talk to Fill- no! No no no no! Too loud, Fill and young too loud! Head hurt! Head hurt! Stop loud! Too much! Stop! <em> Please! </em> Head hurt! No no! Tubbo, help! Stop shout! <em> Stop hurting me! Please! </em> Phil, stop yelling! Dream yelling now, too loud! <em> Head hurt, head </em> <b> <em>hurt!!</em> </b> <em> Please no more! No no no! Stop shouting, stop hurting, stop thinking! </em> <b> <em>Please!!</em> </b></p><p>Louds stop.</p><p>Sharp, neck. Ouch! Red cotton out neck.</p><p>Toy made loud stop. Made hurt stop.</p><p>Used to make quiet.</p><p>Toy is...</p><p>“<em>Useful...</em>” say.</p><p>Good. Quiet. Hurtless. Empty.</p><p>...</p><p>happy</p>
<hr/><p>“So... what was it like for you, Ranboo?” Phil asks carefully, slowly, as not to startle him.</p><p>Nevertheless, the enderman jumps at the question.</p><p>Ranboo has been sitting up on the end of the bed, completely still, anxiously gripping the tiny mattress ever since they had traded places in the small cell. Phil had first noticed his hybrid friend’s new behavior after about ten or twenty minutes since Dream left with Tubbo to who knows where. It started when he insisted that Ranboo take the bed instead of him, as the tall teen was younger. He deserved the comfort much more than a father who was the reason one of their own sons was dead, anyway.</p><p>Worst-case scenario, Tubbo had been relocated to some kind of hidden bunker, and would likely never return. However, considering his son’s position as president, they were most likely in L’Manburg, Dream <em> using </em> Tubbo to change whatever law or guideline he so desired.</p><p>Fucking hell. Tubbo, his own son, probably his most innocent son, being <em> used </em> by that madman. It made him sick. Made him <em> angry. </em> Made him want to take those goddamned sticks of his and shove them up his ass.</p><p>It makes him even angrier to know that doing so might break them in the process, definitely bend the wood, at least. It could hurt <em> badly. </em></p><p>“Uh, well, I-I don’t, I don’t want to... to, uh. To talk a-about it. Please, just- just go first.” He sputters nervously. Honestly, Phil expected that response. Tubbo and Dream had left hours ago, but the hybrid remained jumpy, reacting to every little sound he heard with a small shake. It was a bit unnerving, to say the least.</p><p>“Well, I was following that fucking <em> bastard </em> Dream...”</p><p>—o—</p><p>Phil’s being led to the leather strap-covered table by Dream, with Tommy following close behind, under the control of that unsettling mask. Phil didn’t dare look into his youngest son’s eyes; he’s already seen that horrid sight once, and he wished to never experience it again. Phil still had anger in the back of his head, but it was simmering off easily, utilizing his many years of practice getting his kids to settle down, and himself on occasion. His age had trained him well.</p><p>Laying on that table, eyes closed, as Dream forced Tommy to secure him to the hardwood surface, he was calm. Dream tried to rile him up, calling him by the nickname only the people closest to him could use, but he remained calm, save for a few scowls. He wouldn’t let the bastard get to him, because that would mean he got what he wanted, and Phil wasn’t about to let that happen willingly. Tommy finished tightening the restraints, then took his bucket hat off his head and set it down on the equipment-filled end table beside the bookcase. Tommy strides over to an isolated chair and promptly slumps over into it as Dream places the sticks back in his inventory.</p><p>Then came the sticks. Plain, brown sticks. Soon to be <em> his </em> sticks. Not to mention the disgusting sock puppet with his likeness strewn across it.</p><p>Dream holds the sticks above Phil’s chest, then includes the sock, mutters a few words which he only vaguely recognizes as the language used for enchantments, and the glow from the enchanted book enters the sticks.</p><p>As his body tenses up not of his own command, he feels a piece of himself leave his body again, a portion of his heart, or maybe his soul, it doesn’t really matter. He’s felt that feeling of emptiness before, the first piece left once Wilbur died, once Phil killed him. He isn’t too broken up about losing a second piece, like a second son.</p><p>But this time, it feels... unnatural. Like it’s something Phil <em> should </em> have, but just doesn’t. It makes him angry. Why would Dream think something like this is acceptable, he’s playing with people’s fucking <em> lives! </em> It’s sick and twisted! All he wants to do is protect his sons he has left, and Dream won’t let him! He has every right to be mad, of course he does. This bitch reduced his <em> children </em> to his fucking <em> playthings! </em> Then did the same to <em> him! </em></p><p>Why is he so mad? He’s trying to calm himself down, and he knows he should be mad, should be enraged, but it’s just so much more difficult to calm down now, why is it so hard!?</p><p>He tries to take a few deep breaths, but can’t, only able to draw in and out the breath he already has. Those goddamn sticks are controlling his fucking <em> breathing! </em> Realizing that only serves to make him angrier. He pushes a little bit of air in and out, calm enough to speak with relative civility.</p><p>“Dream, what the <em> fuck </em> did you do to me! Why am I so <em> angry?! </em>” he seethed, the enraged tone of his voice mostly out of his control.</p><p>The man just ponders the words. “I guess I should’ve expected you’d be angry. Ranboo left so anxious, he would’ve been shaking like a leaf if I had let him.”</p><p>Phil wants to tear his throat out just from hearing the falseness in his voice, but he manages to keep his cool, only barely. Tommy gets up and begins to undo some of the harnesses until Phil is able to unstrap most of the rest.</p><p>This feels awful. It wasn’t like his limbs were being pulled by an outside force, he could <em> feel </em> own muscles moving on their own, like it was Dream’s brain sending signals to the rest of his body. It made him feel—you guessed it—angry.</p><p>Dream speaks victoriously, voice absolutely dripping with condescension. “Welcome to the world, my toy. Your new life awaits.”</p><p>Phil only barely manages to keep his emotions in check, letting out his anger through a monstrous scowl.</p><p>“I’ll let you go back to your cell now, you’re not important to me. I only enchanted you as a precaution, really.” Dream plainly states, but continues with a knowingly sly tone. “However, you are my new toy, <em> Phil,</em>” the father in question growls loudly, “and since I now <em> own </em> you, you <em> are </em> my possession! You do not <em> have </em> any possessions, and I quite like this hat of yours.”</p><p>Phil can’t keep holding the anger back. “<b><em>Dream!</em> </b> If you so much as goddamn <em> touch </em> my hat, I promise I <em> will fucking </em> <b> <em>scalp you!!</em> </b>” he roars.</p><p>“It wouldn’t fit over my hoodie, anyway.” he says matter-of-factly, putting the striped bucket hat away in his inventory.</p><p>—o—</p><p>“... and here I am.” said Phil, ending his story. “I don’t feel <em> that </em> different, I guess I just have anger issues now.” he shrugs.</p><p>Ranboo sighs. “Yeah... yeah, it was- it was pretty much the s-same for, for me. B-but, I felt so much... <em> worse. </em> A-and now, I’m sure you can tell, I-I can’t stop- <em> s-shaking! </em> Obviously, I’m really a-awkward and nervous as- as it is, but I just can’t- <em> stop! </em>” he cries, exasperated.</p><p>Phil lets out a deep breath. “I was afraid you would be more affected than me. God, if you feel like that, I don’t even want to <em> imagine </em> what Tubbo went through. What... <em> Tommy </em> went through.”</p><p>The two prisoners share a sympathetic look thrown at each other. “A-and... you probably noticed, but he- he took m-my crown. I was sure he would take m-my book too, but... he said, he said that he wanted me to...<em> remember </em> our, our... <em> time </em> together. I was so scared and anxious, I-I couldn’t even move when he <em> wasn’t </em> holding my, uh, my sticks.”</p><p>Phil turns towards Ranboo, attentive. “Want, you still have your book? Can you write in it?”</p><p>Ranboo jumped and let out a yelp at the sudden question. “I- uh- I, y-yeah, yeah I s-still have the- the quill right, ah, here.” He holds up both objects with dangerously trembling hands.</p><p>Apologizing, Phil holds up his hands to show he means no harm and to calm the hybrid a bit. “Sorry, sorry Ranboo. May I see your book please? If anyone finds us down here, I need to send a message, I can get us <em> out </em> of here.” He holds out his hand expectantly.</p><p>The hybrid clutches the two items close to his chest, still shaking like a leaf. “W-what? No, n-no! Please, Phil, this- this i-is all I have left! I can’t, no, I can’t. Let a-anyone see it, these are- are my <em> memories! </em> I can’t, won’t, no, please. If someone t- <em> takes </em> my- my memories I have- n-nothing left!” He begins to curl his form in on himself on the thin bed, causing the shaking in his bones to travel to the rest of his tall body. “I-if I don’t, if I don’t have my, my m-memories, then I have <em> nothing, </em> I’ll <em> be nothing, I’ll- no memories, no life, no- no, just a toy, Dream’s toy, no no nonono-</em>”</p><p>He’s only breathing in short bursts now, gulping air into his lungs between every nervous pause in his muttering words. Phil jumps into action, putting a hand on the enderman’s back to help calm him a bit. “Ranboo, Ranboo breathe. I think you’re having a panic attack, breathe for me Ranboo, <em> please. </em>” He holds his body firm to stop it from shaking, looking right in his multicolored eyes.</p><p>At least, that’s what Phil is pretty sure he’s supposed to do in this situation. He will admit, he’s really only helped his sons calm down from fits of nervous energy, nowhere near the full-blown panic attack that Ranboo appears to be having at the moment. “Ranboo, hey. Breathe with me, now, okay? In... out. In... out.”</p><p>After a few more breathing cycles, the anxious enderman finally calms down enough for coherent conversation. “Th-thank you, Phil. I’ll uh, I’ll give you one page. From my- my m-memory book.” He promptly tears out one page from the very back and hands it to Phil, along with the feather quill to write his message.</p><p>“Thank you Ranboo, you are quite literally a lifesaver.” He puts the paper against the wall and carefully writes on it vertically to the best of his ability in the relative darkness of their cell.</p><p>He would call upon the only person that had a chance of saving them, the only person strong enough to take down Dream, and who also happens to have a personal attachment to the people he’s controlling. He’d been hatching this plan for a substantial amount of time, ever since he put the pieces together about the very first time that Tubbo went to visit Tommy. His youngest son was definitely being fucking controlled by that <em> bastard </em> Dream at the time, but since Tubbo didn’t see him, that could only mean he was using an invisibility potion. The bright green son of a bitch had a tendency to stick out like a sore thumb, even on his best days.</p><p>He needed a way to write a note, and Ranboo being allowed to keep his memory book was the perfect opportunity to send the message he needed to. Much like Tommy did during the rebellion, Phil would call on Technoblade to save them. He truly was their only hope. </p><p class="pencil"><span class="u">LEAVE</span> <span class="u">HERE</span> as soon as you can<br/>
we are <span class="u">UNDER</span> <span class="u">DREAM’S</span> <span class="u">CONTROL</span><br/>
and we cannot fight back<br/>
if you do not leave soon, you will be too.<br/>
go to my house, <span class="u">find</span> <span class="u">Techno’s</span> <span class="u">Compass</span><br/>
tell him <span class="u">family</span> is in <span class="u">danger</span><br/>
FIND TECHNOBLADE</p><p>Phil finishes the note with his name. “That should do it!”</p><p>Ranboo is anxiously curious. Any expression he displayed, it always had a hint of unnerve or anxiety behind it. Those sticks really fucked with his head, didn’t they? “What, um, what does it... s-say? Wh-what are you going to do? W-with it, I mean.”</p><p>Sucking in air through his teeth, Phil looks a bit apologetic now. “About that, mate... I’m not sure I should actually tell you my plan. You see, those sticks made you really, well, <em> vulnerable, </em> for lack of a better word. I’m just afraid that, if Dream pressures you a bit for information, you’ll tell him all he wants to know. This plan <em> has </em> to work, he can’t know anything about it. Surely you understand, yeah?”</p><p>The hybrid laughs a small, dry chuckle. “Yeah, you’re... you’re probably r-right.” he gazes down to the floor.</p><p>Phil’s plan was, of course, to send a message to Technoblade, asking for his help. Somehow he would have to get the attention of anybody who came to save them, assuming that anyone was coming to begin with, then reveal the note to them while very likely not being able to move or speak. It's a tremendously uphill battle even without factoring in the invisibility potions Dream would likely use. Maybe Phil could hide it behind him on the wall, then go invisible, letting anyone see the note through his transparent form? It was an idea, at the very least.</p><p>He resolves to himself, he’s probably just going to have to come up with it on the fly. On the incredibly slim chance that Techno actually is the one to show up in the first place, that would make things a lot easier.</p><p>Or would it? Oh no. If Techno shows up the first time, he’d have no idea what kind of trap they’re walking into, then if Dream got the jump on him with the invisibility-</p><p>Dream could enchant Technoblade. Holy <em> shit. </em> They may as well give up any hope of <em> ever </em> escaping or taking him down if Techno succumbs to his influence. His pig son was already extremely volatile with Chat roaring in his head non-stop, Phil doesn’t even want to <em> remotely </em> consider what it would be like if the voices were mixed by the intrinsic emotions brought upon by the sticks.</p><p>The worst part is knowing that he would be powerless to stop that specific outcome from happening. <em> Fuck! </em> It makes Phil, of course, angry. He slams his fist onto the side of the rocky wall, softened by his skin but still audible. The motion makes Ranboo jump a bit.</p><p>“Sorry, Ranboo,” he mutters. Man, their new emotions couldn’t contradict in a worse way. Phil wishes he could just tune out everything around him, like Ranboo did that one time when they first arrived in Logsteadshire.</p><p>Actually, the thought reminds him that he wanted to ask about that event.</p><p>“Hey, Ranboo, I’ve been thinking, what... happened to you, when we first got here, I had to forcefully snap you out of some sort of trance. What was that?” he questioned cautiously. It could be some sort of personal trauma, he didn’t want to step on any toes. Do endermen have toes?</p><p>Ranboo looks shocked and scared, seemingly remembering the event for himself. “O- oh, right. That. Um... Well, long story- long story short, I was, un- unconscious. It’s n-not a pleasant experience.”</p><p>Feeling somewhat shocked, Phil presses onwards. They need this information, it could be useful. God, he hated that word now, it reminded him of that fucking <em> sadist </em> Dream, what he did to Tommy. He quickly settled his rage to ask the enderman hybrid for a follow-up. “Ranboo, mate, you’ve got to give me more than that. It could be use- ... <em> help</em>ful. How does it start? What triggers it?”</p><p>Ranboo sighs with a hint of defeat, letting out a tiny bit of tension in his lightly shuddering shoulders. “Oh- okay. It... has to do with my, my physiology, as an enderman hybrid. As I’m sure you can tell, I am m-more enderman than- than human. My hybridness is somewhere around, mmm, eighty to eighty-five percent. I kinda, well, <em> lose </em> myself to my m-mob instincts, and people report it as just i-idle wandering, focusing on nothing, but- but looking at everything. I-If I'm being honest, you probably prevented a- another one from, w-well, happening. A few minutes ago. I’ve been told that I-I even teleport or, y’know, pick things up in the form of blocks. Occasionally.”</p><p>He suddenly holds up his hands, outstretched in front of him. “I-I don’t- I’ve <em>never</em> attacked anyone, though! So, so don’t worry. Probably has to do w-with how, uh, timid I am, when I’m... l-lucid. I think my jaw actually like, dislocates, sometimes. It doesn’t hurt, really, it’s just a bit- uncomfortable.”</p><p>Phil certainly wasn’t expecting such a complicated explanation, given how brief and noncommittal his first one was. It probably felt really good to get it off of his chest. He also wasn’t expecting something so visceral as falling unconscious and having your most primal instincts take over your body.</p><p>His body being controlled by an outside source. How ironic.</p><p>“Do you have a... name for it, or something?”</p><p>“Well, it’s something like s-sleep- sleepwalking, so um, a-after the first few times it happened, I-I decided to call it... enderwalking.” he responded, a bit more confidence in his voice. Phil wondered how long it’s been since the hybrid has had someone to talk to about his... condition. Has he <em> ever </em> had someone to talk to about it?</p><p>Phil adds Ranboo to his list of reasons to get all four of them out of their terrible shared predicament and away—<em> far </em> away—from Dream.</p><p>They sit in contemplative silence for the next few hours, the quiet only broken up by the occasional bit of small talk.</p>
<hr/><p>Tubbo is hiding behind a wall, just behind Dream, the man who has complete control over him at the moment.</p><p>Dream’s wearing Tubbo’s sock in his right hand, while the same hand grips his sticks through the cloth. Since his grip is closed around the wood, it means that Tubbo’s mouth is also closed. It’s still such an alien and deeply <em> wrong </em> feeling, but if he’s being honest with himself, he's used to it. His lips have been either sealed or talking off of his command for the past three hours, maybe more.</p><p>Tubbo wants nothing more than to be able to shout out loud for someone to help him, someone to take Dream away and <em> save him. </em> As they’ve been running and throwing pearls from the New L’Manburg white house to the community Nether portal, Tubbo has seen a lot more guards around the walls of the territory, like they’d all been brought to their watch on command. They’re probably looking for Dream and Tubbo, but he wouldn’t know. Dream doesn’t tell him anything.</p><p>Dream is the one with the plan, and the one with the control. Tubbo doesn’t need to know anything when he can’t <em> decide </em> anything that goes on in his body.</p><p>Every action he makes, every word he says, every new emotion he feels, reduced to nothing but two pieces of <em> wood </em> and a pile of commanding thoughts, hidden behind a white mask with a happy smile.</p><p>It <em> terrifies </em> Tubbo. All of it.</p><p>Suddenly, Dream takes a flint and steel and a bundle of TNT and tosses it onto the ground between them. Dream empties his inventory of a few weapons as well: a netherite axe and crossbow, both heavily enchanted, as well as some arrows, a shield, and a bucket of milk. The remaining portion of Tubbo’s face that he actually has control over scrunches up in confusion. <em> Why milk...? </em> His body moves to pick them all up as he watches his manipulator move the sticks to perform the action. With his left hand, Dream takes out an invisibility splash potion and smashes it in the middle of the grass that separates them. Tubbo is forced to breathe in the aromatic magic before it quickly dissipates, watching with panicked eyes as his limbs and Dream’s entire form swiftly vanish.</p><p>So that’s what the milk is for.</p><p>Tubbo’s legs move out from the wall they were previously hiding behind, his invisible body preventing him from being noticed. He immediately takes in the scene in front of him. They were fairly close to the Nether portal, and it was being surrounded by four or five royal guards, apparently on lockdown to prevent Dream and Tubbo from escaping through it.</p><p>He had a feeling that escaping through it was exactly what they were about to do.</p><p>Walking slowly and carefully, Tubbo moves towards the direction of the portal. It must be a bit more difficult to control his body when Dream can’t <em> see </em> his body. His head is locked right on the closest guard, whose head is on somewhat of a swivel, looking around for the two escapees.</p><p>As his body lowers closer to the ground, sneaking up in order to catch the young adult guard by surprise, Tubbo realizes what he’s about to do.</p><p>As his eyes stay dead set on the unaware patrolman, his pleading thoughts racing through his head. <em> No, Dream, </em> please! <em> We’re already here, just let me go through the portal! This isn’t necessary! </em> Stop! <em> You don’t have to do this! No, no no! </em></p><p>Tubbo feels the axe leave his inventory and both of his hands grip the handle as he readies the blade back, eyes open wider than they likely ever have been. <b> <em>No, stop! Dream, PLEASE!!</em> </b> He immediately swings it with full force, cleaving clean through the man’s innocent neck.</p><p>The headless body instantly drops onto the dilapidated stone floor, a littering of natural stone and blackstone, at the impact of Tubbo’s- no, <em> Dream’s </em> axe. Horrified eyes watch the head roll around a few feet from the rest of the body, leaving a trail of blood across the stone. The neck stump is absolutely <em> gushing </em> blood, the heart arteries pushing red out rhythmically, creating a large pool of crimson that flows along the cracks in the stone from gravity pulling it to the lowest point.</p><p>Tubbo wants to vomit. Tubbo wants to fucking <em> retch </em> what little food he’s eaten in the last day at the gruesome sight. But he can’t. He can’t, because the sticks have control of the muscles surrounding his stomach, trailing up his esophagus. He has so little substance in his gut that Tubbo thinks it would just be a dry heave, anyway.</p><p>Tubbo wants to look away. Tubbo so <em> desperately </em> wants to look away. But- he <em> can’t. </em> He has control of his eyes perfectly fine, like always, but he just can’t <em> look away. </em> Please, just look away! <em> Look away! Anything else! Please! </em></p><p>Hot tears spring from his invisible eyes and onto the floor, quickly being dissolved within the pool of blood.</p><p>He finds something else to look at through watery vision. Unfortunately, what he’s now staring at is another guard barely registering the scene unfolding in front of <em> him, </em> before a gleaming netherite sword materializes out of thin air and stabs it through the second guard’s heart, puncturing right through the basic iron armor he’s wearing.</p><p><b> <em>No!</em> </b> <em> Dream, stop! These people were just following orders, they didn’t </em> do <em> anything! Please, stop </em> <b> <em>killing</em> </b> <em> people! </em> More tears are streaming from his ducts now.</p><p>Tubbo watches the second body fall limp onto the ground, easily disintegrating into nothing more than a puff of smoke, leaving behind a small pile of stuff. That’s right, respawning! The process would be very painful and he’d have a huge scar over his heart, but that guard would be able to return to the realm of the living after a while. Wet eyes darting over to the headless body, Tubbo expects to see some smoke and items where it used to be.</p><p>No. No, no! <em> No, no, nonono </em> <b> <em>no!</em> </b></p><p>The body is still there. It hadn’t disintegrated, it hadn’t dropped any items, it was just dead, head lying some feet away from the rest of it.</p><p>That could only mean one thing.</p><p>The first guard had been on his last life. Tubbo had just killed a man, <em> permanently. </em></p><p><em> No, please! Come on, disappear! This isn’t me, I’m not a killer! I’m begging you, have another life! Please! No! This is Dream’s doing! I’m not a killer! I’m not! Please! </em> <b> <em>I’m not a killer!</em> </b></p><p>The dead body continued to not disappear.</p><p>Tubbo didn’t have the time to keep denying his own actions, because now he’s walking towards the Nether portal again, putting away the dripping axe, coated with red, and taking out the TNT bundle and flint and steel. The floating sword of Dream was also stepping towards the swirling purple gateway, except the sword was now replaced with a loaded crossbow.</p><p>Taking the steel and striking it against the flint, all with one hand, Tubbo lights the fuse of the explosive, and tosses it onto the ground in front of the large obsidian square. Then, putting away the flint and steel, he takes out his own crossbow and shield and begins firing on the remaining guards. Deftly blocking the oncoming arrows under Dream’s will, Tubbo finally finds it in himself to close his eyes and expect the worst to happen.</p><p>Tubbo doesn’t see Dream’s enchanted crossbow pierce through one of the guard’s armor, a woman this time, and send her to the ground, instantly becoming smoke and a pile of items. Tubbo doesn’t see his <em> own </em> crossbow fire into the shoulder of a fourth guard, who manages to stumble away from the battle to tend to their wound.</p><p>By the time more footmen arrive as backup, the volatile explosive is nearly about to go off, so Tubbo is quickly turned around, stumbling through the Nether portal with a <em> whoosh </em>, followed by Dream close behind.</p><p>The TNT finally explodes with a loud noise and a distinct shatter, leaving nothing but a large hole in the stone floor and an empty Nether portal, no invisible fighters to be found, and until someone gets another flint and steel, no way to follow them.</p><p>—o—</p><p>“... I’m a murderer.” muttered Tubbo, tone brimming with anxiety.</p><p>Dream barely looked up from his meal. “I mean, if you want to look at it like that, sure. You’re a murderer.” he commented simply, through the bits of steak in his mouth. He swallows the small bolus. “Keep in mind though, you’re also my toy.”</p><p>His voice is casual. <em> Casual. </em></p><p>How in the hell is <em> Tubbo </em> being the one who isn’t casual in a conversation with <em> Dream?! </em> Everything he’s learned about the green asshole in the past week has been nothing but evil, cunning, and primarily, deeply manipulative. For god’s sake, he just made Tubbo <em> kill </em> a man! The guy didn’t even look that much older than Tubbo himself!</p><p>And it was their <em> last life. </em></p><p>When they had stumbled into the burning dimension, Dream drank a bucket of milk and made Tubbo drink his own, granting their bodies opacity once again. Being handed a few ender pearls, Tubbo chucked his in a seemingly random direction, Dream throwing his in a similar one. Once all his pearls were used up, Tubbo found himself at a small outcropping behind a wall, hidden from view if someone was looking for them inside the Nether hub.</p><p>There was a little area pre-made just for them. Of course there was. Dream planned <em> everything </em> in advance. It was a small space with a campfire, soul-fire instead of ordinary fire, in the middle and two logs for seating on either end of the fire. It greatly resembled the area in Logsteadshire, Tubbo noticed.</p><p>And here he was, having a casual conversation. A rest stop in the least hospitable dimension anyone has ever had the displeasure of venturing into. Just... taking a break, eating some food.</p><p>It’s so jarring, and it scares Tubbo that he’s acting like this.</p><p>He’s been a lot more scared, ever since Dream had enchanted him. He was certain at this point that it was exclusively due to that very enchantment, these new feelings that seared themselves painfully onto the walls of his mind. As long as the sticks had an effect on him, Tubbo knew he would never stop feeling scared in some capacity. It didn’t even have to necessarily be Dream, either. He was more scared of a common mob of the Nether finding and attacking them than he was of his captor.</p><p>Because he was being so... <em> civil. </em></p><p>“Dream, what- what is this? What’s your game? Why are you being so nice to me? Well, not <em> nice </em> per se, but definitely more friendly than usual.”</p><p>The man lifted his mask a tad to eat more of his food. “Honestly, I’m just tired. I did tell you this morning that we were going to have a very big day today, you know. I need a break, and you just happen to be along for the ride. It’s not like you can leave or anything, either, I’ll just bend your bones again.”</p><p>He has a point. Since this morning, Tubbo had become another one of Dream’s so-called toys, he’d been tortured at the mercy of his new sticks, and he’d taken the last life of a perfectly innocent guard of the Dream SMP kingdom. Oh, and Dream’s a cabinet member now.</p><p>And Tubbo didn’t even bother trying to escape, he knew how futile it would be. A wasted effort, really. Besides, now was the time to relax after today’s events. He had been given the opportunity to take a breather, and Dream not being <em> completely </em> possessive and sinister was a nice change of pace, even if it did unnerve him a good deal.</p><p>He... likes it.</p><p>In the back of his thoughts, a part of his mind steadily growing larger, Tubbo likes it. He <em> likes </em> it! Why does he like it?! Tubbo knows he shouldn’t like it, but somehow he does! He isn’t scared of Dream right now, and he fucking <em> likes </em> it! Dream is being nice, caring for Tubbo, caring <em> about </em> Tubbo, in his own twisted way, but he still cares. Why is he caring? <em> Why does he like it!? </em></p><p>He continues eating the food he’s been given and drinks the bottled water, terrified that he’s actually at <em> peace </em> in front of his captor. They sit in relative silence for a good while, until Tubbo notices something out of the corner of his eye.</p><p>Looking in Dream’s direction, far in the distance behind him, a small group of about five people are walking down the path in the direction of Logsteadshire.</p><p>Tubbo gasps softly. The group is very far away, almost about halfway down the path, but he notices that the person leading them is floating a few feet off the ground, legs somewhat disappearing down their length.</p><p>There’s only one ghost in the Dream SMP.</p><p>He can’t actually see the people following Ghostbur, but judging by their colors, it appears to be Quackity, Fundy, Puffy, and someone else, probably Eret, but if it is the king, he isn’t wearing his signature red cloak.</p><p>Tubbo quickly turns his attention back to his meal, desperately trying to avoid alerting Dream to the presence of anything or anyone that might be able to save them, deathly afraid of what he might do to them. The problem is that he’s always wearing that stupid <em> mask, </em> so Tubbo can’t see where he’s looking!</p><p>The next approximately fifteen minutes go by in relative silence, with Tubbo making quick glances every minute or so at the walking party, to check if they’re making their way successfully.</p><p>That’s when it happens.</p><p>“Tubbo, what do you keep looking at? What’s behind-” Dream interrupts himself the moment he turns around.</p><p>The mask turns around to face him again, very slowly but with great purpose in the movement, and Tubbo <em> knows </em> Dream just figured out exactly what’s going on. His body locks up not with enchantment magic, but with fear gushing into his psyche.</p><p>“Tubbo,” he says plainly with a hint of condescension, “who are those people?”</p><p>The poor, frightened boy can only stammer a response, vainly attempting to form coherent sentences. “I-I-I, Dr- Dream, no, p-please-”</p><p>Dream suddenly launches to his feet and <em> roars </em> at the petrified president. “<b><em>TUBBO!!</em> </b> <em> Who </em> <b> <em>are</em> </b> <em> those people?! </em>”</p><p>He shatters. With a terrified cry, he devolves into a pile of pleas, apologies, and sobs, tears streaming just a bit faster than the heat of the Nether can vaporize them. “<em>I’m sorry, Dream! I’m sorry! Really, I-I am! I’m sorry, I’m sorry, please don’t hurt them, </em> <b> <em>I’m sorry!!</em> </b>”</p><p>Tubbo keeps his gaze locked on the white mask, as the smooth face is moving ever closer with footsteps like thunder, closer with fists balled tightly and knuckles white, and he’s <em> only a foot away now please don’t hurt me!- </em></p><p>Dream hurts him.</p><p>The back of his owner’s extended right hand meets harshly with the entire left side of Tubbo’s face as his head jerks accordingly with a cry of pain, the sound being filtered through the continued heaves of his sobbing. He barely manages to keep himself sitting upright on the log by using his arms to brace for impact.</p><p>Not granting Tubbo the time to gingerly touch his face to inspect the damage, Dream immediately clenches the clothes around his neck in his hands and hangs the rest of his petite frame around a foot above the netherrack, feeling much too terrified to object to the manhandling.</p><p>“<em>STOP FUCKING </em><b><em>LYING</em></b><em> TO ME!! You’re not sorry, you’re </em><b><em>never</em></b><em> sorry!</em> ” Tubbo gets tossed aside onto the red rock like a discarded item, like Dream didn’t care a single bit for him, like “You are so <em>goddamn </em><b><em>ungrateful!</em></b> I gave you <em>food,</em> I gave you a <em>break,</em> I gave you a <em>higher </em><b><em>fucking</em></b> <b><em>PURPOSE!!</em></b> And what <em>shit</em> do you try to pull to <em>repay</em> that kindness?! <em>You try to </em><b><em>hide the TRUTH from me!!</em></b> ”</p><p>Dream rips Tubbo’s sock from his inventory and wears it. “Would you like to know the<em> truth, </em> Tubbo?!”</p><p>Dream curls the sock’s mouth into a fist. “<b><em>Nobody</em> </b> <em> can save you! </em> Not your <em> family, </em> not your <em> worthless </em> <b> <em>friends</em> </b> <em> over there, </em> <b> <em>NOBODY!</em> </b> <em> That’s </em> the truth!”</p><p>Dream grabs Tubbo’s sticks and holds them in his un-socked hand. “<em>You are </em> <b> <em>MY TOY!</em> </b> <em> You belong to me, </em> <b> <em>and ME ALONE!!</em> </b> <em> That’s the truth! </em>”</p><p>Dream tightens his hands around both ends of the sticks. “And you’re going to regret lying to me. “That’s the <em> fucking </em> truth.”</p><p>Dream bends the sticks <em>severely.</em></p><p>Tubbo’s perception of absolutely everything is shattered in an instant as excruciating pain, searing pain, death-defying <em> pain, </em> shoots up <em> both </em> his arms as the stiff bones easily begin to bend like rubber. Nerve endings feel like they're being forcefully drowned in the lava of the Nether, any sort of thoughts are utterly washed away in a torrential flood of primal <em>hurt</em> that seems to never end.</p><p>And he can’t scream.</p><p>Tubbo is stuck, petrified in a quiet agony, because Dream <em>still</em> has the mouth of his sock closed around the sticks in his hand. Sticks which are threatening to splinter and <em> break </em> at any moment if slightly too much force were to be applied. The action lasts for all of ten seconds, but it felt like ten hours to the completely silent, mercilessly tortured teen.</p><p>His throat is run ragged by the sounds that don’t come out, his brain desperately trying to move the vocal cords to make the sound come out, but can’t, being blocked by the muscles directly connected to the taut cords. It makes his throat hurt so much more than if he was just <em> able </em> to scream and shout and cry out of an open mouth. No matter how much he may try, his voice box refuses to respond to the stimulus of electrical signals and his lips refuse to separate. It feels almost as if his mouth is nothing more than a pattern, stitched with string onto a perfectly smooth patch of skin.</p><p>By the time Dream finally releases his vice grip on the sticks, Tubbo feels almost completely numb. When the pain leaves and his bones straighten once more, he falls into a heap over the warm netherrack.</p><p>And he can’t get up.</p><p>Dream’s saying something, but Tubbo can’t pay attention. It’s something about being disappointed, how he has to get back before the party of five does, angry at how worthless he’s being, and he’s shouting the whole time.</p><p>Tubbo doesn’t care. Not about what Dream’s saying, not about what’s going to happen to him—it’s entirely out of his control anyway—and not about himself. He doesn’t think he <em> can </em> care.</p><p>If Tubbo can’t care about himself, maybe he just needs others to care about <em> him. </em></p><p>Yeah, that sounds like a plan. Let other people care about him.</p><p>Tubbo just wants to be cared for.</p><p>Good plan.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>one of the things i consistently pop off about in this fic is my ability to come up with some of these chapter names, this is one of my best</p><p><b><a href="https://twitter.com/lilacadaisy/status/1362960080338059267">Fanart!</a></b> If you read reclaimed toys then you'll already know about this, but I love how it looks! That scene from chapter 12 where Tubbo's just being given the fucking business by Dream, and Tommy's just vibing in the background with those dull eyes of his, it's such a great drawing! please dont remind me that this was made over a week ago</p><p>Speaking about a week ago, you're probably wondering where I've been, it's because classes have kinda been fucking me! I really think I might have to change the amount of time you guys can expect a new chapter from 3-4 days to 5-7, but it still depends on <i>a lot</i> of things. I'll be real, I am definitely feeling the motivation leave me, which is in no small part due to aforementioned classes. Not to mention, this chapter was trying to resist being written near the beginning of it, and I've began to come up with more AUs when I just want to get <i>this</i> one finished.</p><p>Also, I'm so very aware that it's hard to discern just what the hell is going on in any of Toy's POVs. This one is him recounting the events of that morning where Dream enchanted Ranboo, Phil, and Tubbo, after they happen. He does a lot of thinking after the fact because his thoughts are too slow to be able to keep up during it, which you will see probably in the next chapter or the one after it.</p><p>Welcome to the new longest chapter in the whole fic! This one is longer than chapter 12 by only 130 words. I put a lot of effort into it, not only to make sure that the story stays coherent, but also to make sure the feelings stay coherent. And out came this big wad of character development! A lot of angst with a little bit of hope, all wrapped up in trauma.</p><p>Thank you for the continued support! Even though I unfortunately didn't update for more than a week, and the momentum I once had is all but gone, but thanks for sticking around! Next chapter will definitely start out with the new group of rescuers! Let's hope it goes better than last time. I also plan to add another dream sequence, but this time I guarantee it will not be happy like the last one, I don't know where it's gonna go in the plot line, but I have a really sick name for that chapter as well.</p><p><b>edit:</b> Oh I almost forgot! I wanted to gush about just how much the Origins SMP has been feeding me! I just can't get over how Tommy complains about not being useful, he literally yells "I'm the useful one!!" one time. And Ranboo as well, when people put pumpkins on and he can't see them, he says verbatim "I get toyed with, they toy with me." and im fucking over the moon.<br/>I also saw <a href="https://twitter.com/moccici22/status/1365700722910658561">this post</a> and immediately went 'o shit mans toy!!!' and that also fed me. (however if this was canon he would have just a simple smile and it would look a lot like Dream's smile)<br/>everything's comin up higuy</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0015"><h2>15. A Call to Action</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Eret witnesses firsthand the aftermath of Dream and Tubbo's escape through the Nether portal, fuelled by a sense of urgency.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>I recently received a <b>gift fic</b> based on chapter 12! Check it out if you haven't already, the link will be at the end of the most recent chapter. It's a Ranboo-centric oneshot about a what-if of his first experiences under the sticks' influence.</p><p>Also I've been going pretty fuckin ham on the mature rating, make sure you keep watching the tags for anything new you might not like.</p><p>#brokentoysfanart on twitter</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span class="dreamalert">[Broadcast] THIS IS AN EMERGENCY BROADCAST. I AM ORDERING EVERY SINGLE GUARD AVAILABLE TO ATTEND TO THEIR STATIONS IMMEDIATELY. THIS IS NOT A DRILL.</span><br/>
<span class="msg">&lt;The_Eret&gt; DREAM AND PRESIDENT TUBBO ARE MISSING.<br/>
&lt;The_Eret&gt; This is the HIGHEST urgency!<br/>
&lt;HBomb94&gt; Eret, what’s going on?<br/>
&lt;Sapnap&gt; what do you mean missing? we just saw them giving an announcement at the podium<br/>
&lt;dan_the_man99&gt; Right away, sire! I’ll sweep the castle and order anyone I see to be on alert!<br/>
&lt;BadBoyHalo&gt; What’s wrong, are Dream and Tubbo alright??<br/>
&lt;CaptainPuffy&gt; There’s no time to explain! I’m with Eret and the remaining L’Manburg cabinet, we CAN’T let Dream and Tubbo leave!<br/>
&lt;GeorgeNotFound&gt; guys whatthe fuck io was sleeping’<br/>
&lt;Sapnap&gt; george go back to sleep<br/>
&lt;BadBoyHalo&gt; George, language!<br/>
&lt;Its_Fundy&gt; No, it’s true! They asked for alone time in the white house and when I went to check up on them they were gone!<br/>
&lt;GeorgeNotFound&gt; k gn<br/>
&lt;CaptainPuffy&gt; There’s more to this than we can say publicly.<br/>
&lt;CaptainPuffy&gt; We suspect foul play.</span>
</p>
<hr/><p>Eret is <em> so </em> fucking done passively tiptoeing around everything that was happening to the people he associates with, letting things happen to him instead of attempting to change their outcome himself. He was the king of the entire SMP, damnit! Citizens answer to him, whole military regiments answer to him, why is it <em> he </em> who answers to Dream?!</p><p>The green bastard had just vanished with his fellow ruler, and while the situation was a bit fishy prior to that development, things were downright <em> dire </em> now. Eret knows, he just fucking <em> knows </em> that Dream is somehow behind all of this. It’s a visceral feeling, an intuition from deep in Eret’s gut, telling him that this is a serious problem, and the cause is Dream. Literally every scrap of evidence points to him pulling the strings from behind the curtain, and he is <em> not </em> going to allow it to continue to unfold right in front of his blank, white eyes. Not when he has the manpower to finally do something about it, the resources to stop it, whatever <em> it </em> may be.</p><p>He shoves the communicator back into his inventory, having finished angrily mashing the buttons to send a message of the highest urgency to anyone in range to receive it. Like the official New L’Manburg broadcast from earlier, which only the acting president had the authority to send, Tubbo in this case, Eret is able to send an official Greater Dream SMP broadcast to everybody who was subscribed to the service.</p><p>That’s how the system functioned. Only the highest ranking member of each respective territory is permitted to send such an important message.</p><p>Which is why the only other person with the passcode was Dream. Merely having that authority when he had no title was a testament to the control freak’s nature.</p><p>But now is no time to dwell on that fact.</p><p>Upon hearing that the very person he wanted to speak with had suddenly gone missing, his whole being was stuffed full of a newfound determination and urgency, and he was not going to let anyone stand in his way.</p><p>Eret turns to the sheep hybrid. “Puffy,” he commands loudly, voice stern.</p><p>“Yes, sir?” her voice is shaking a tad, he notices. The worry brought on by the terrible news probably reset his Captain back to using the formalities they abandoned months ago, when they became friends rather than a mere portion of the chain of command.</p><p>“Keep sending messages. I want the Nether portal on lockdown. Make damn sure all the guards are on patrol, the coastal watchtowers manned, hell, even get the <em> citizens </em> on the lookout if you need to.” Eret continues, voice calm. On the inside, however, he is very stressed. Puffy returns to her communicator with a nod.</p><p>He turns to address the small crowd, raising his volume to get the group’s attention. “Gentlemen! It’s a long story, but I <em> know </em> Dream is somehow behind this, we absolutely <em> cannot </em> let him leave again. I am leaving for the Nether portal, <em> now. </em> We need to be at Logsteadshire <em> yesterday. </em> Everyone who wishes to join me can follow, but I will not hesitate to leave any of you behind. Am I clear?”</p><p>Ghostbur pipes up at the mention of Logsteadshire. <span class="ghostbur">“Can I come too? I’d like to see Tommy and Dream again! We were all such good friends on vacation.”</span> Ghostbur says with a happy smile.</p><p>Maybe Eret could slow his pace for a bit, just for the clueless spirit of his dead ally. Make no mistake however, his patience is running thin. Dream and Tubbo had arrived from the direction of the community portal, they were sure to exit the same way. Eret <em> needs </em> to be over there.</p><p>The king cringes harshly at the notion that Dream is anywhere <em> near </em> their friend. “Ghostbur, I know you don’t remember what Dream did to you, but please remember this now. Dream is <em> not </em> our friend.” he says slowly, as to make sure the blissfully unaware ghost understands.</p><p>He looks confused. Of course he does. <span class="ghostbur">“Wh-what do you mean, Dream kept us company in Logsteadshire. Lads on tour! We were on tour, he was like... our manager!”</span></p><p>Wait.</p><p>The answer was floating right in front of him, this whole time! Ghostbur knows where Logsteadshire is!</p><p>Eret completely ignores the specter’s previous statement, no matter how deeply <em> wrong </em> it is. “Ghostbur, you know where Logsteadshire is! Do you remember the route? Please Wilbur, can you take us there?” he says hastily, habitually using his alive name.</p><p><span class="ghostbur">“Eret, I’ve told you, I’m not him.”</span> He looks sadly apologetic. <span class="ghostbur">“And... I <em>think</em> I might remember how to get there, but I’ll have to go to the Nether to see if it jogs my memory. I’m sorry I can’t be of more help.”</span></p><p>Oh, how could he stay mad at Ghostbur? The dead man was simply too sweet and nice to get upset at for more than thirty seconds. Eret passes him a small smile. “Don’t worry Ghostbur, we all appreciate the help. We’ll need anything we can get.”</p><p>Quackity butts in when he notices the conversation start to end. “Hey man, I know you’re having a touching moment and everything, but we have to go. Puffy and Fundy are done messaging everyone, and someone <em> needs </em> to be held accountable for all this shit that’s happening.”</p><p>Eret’s energy quickly returns to him, raring to go. “Right. There’s no time to waste, let’s go. I say we cut straight through the wilderness to get there fastest, Ghostbur can’t exactly throw ender pearls. Puffy, I want you to stay on top of your comm, if there are any more messages, let me know.”</p><p>The Captain in question nods, and the unlikely party of five from two different enemy factions and countries set off for the Nether portal.</p>
<hr/><p>Quackity could almost feel his very skin itching to get back at someone when he found out that Tubbo and Dream had vanished without a trace. He had a somewhat twisted sense of justice in that he only cared about revenge if someone had crossed him or what he cares about. He isn’t a very materialistic guy, and he mostly fends for himself, but he still has friends like Tommy and Tubbo, and the version of L’Manburg that he fought for was also his priority.</p><p>Quackity is someone that people do <em> not </em> want to cross. He’s quick to anger, vindictive, holds tight grudges, and if someone does enough wrong by him, he will likely go to the ends of the earth to make sure they pay for what they’ve done.</p><p>It all began when he first travelled into the Dream SMP lands. His charismatic and boisterous nature got him instant friends in the likes of Tommy, Fundy, and Sapnap, and he eventually found his way to a newly independent L’Manburg with its huge blackstone walls and proud members with matching uniforms. There was a certain solidarity between every member, one that he wanted to be a part of.</p><p>Wilbur didn’t allow that. He refused to allow Quackity entrance to their nation because he was simply not European. That was the first offense.</p><p>The second came when he found out that the same leader of the nation was planning to hold a democratic vote to decide who would become the official president of L’Manburg. At least, it would have been democratic, if Wilbur actually allowed more than one party to run in the election. Quackity quickly forced himself onto the ballot, not allowing such a heinous disintegration of lawful processes to happen.</p><p>The third and final strike occurred when the wealthy and widely popular businessman J. Schlatt was threatening to cinch the election. Quackity tried to convince Wilbur to allow a coalition government between the two candidates, but he soon revealed that Quackity would be used for little more than extra votes, and the coalition was only conditional on their victory.</p><p>Deciding to instead combine votes unconditionally with Schlatt would be the very literal last nail in Wilbur’s coffin.</p><p>That particular cycle of betrayal and revenge only continued from there when he decided to become what was essentially Schlatt’s running mate in the election. Quackity didn’t really care what Wilbur and Tommy did after they were banished, so he focused on making the country better for everyone living there with Schlatt.</p><p>Unfortunately, the partial ram hybrid didn’t have the same sort of ambitions as he did. Schlatt wanted the country to grow and prosper, sure, he took the walls down, changed the name, all for the promise of a better Manburg, but he sought to turn the country into something of a corporation. A well-oiled machine, with efficiency at its peak, every citizen working day and night for him.</p><p>Combining that vision with his exponentially increasing alcohol abuse issues made for an extremely volatile man.</p><p>The relationship between the horned president and his vice was being dangerously strained, becoming something that Quackity hated. Not because it was a terrible relationship, no, but because it was amicable. It was neutral.</p><p>Quackity is a man of extremes. For most everything in his life, he tries hard to either hate it or love it, nothing in-between. He simply didn’t know how to react to things he had feelings of ambivalence towards. If he ever didn’t know how he felt about something, he tried to ignore it entirely until it either went away or he <em> did </em> figure out how he felt.</p><p>But this was the <em> country </em> he was a high-ranking official of, he couldn’t just ignore it! He tried and tried to push Schlatt in a sensible direction, but the man was loud, belligerent, and completely wasted almost every other night. Reasoning with him proved to be a feat that was nigh impossible.</p><p>The proverbial hammer came down at the Manburg Festival. So many people lost lives that day, including Quackity himself. With Technoblade levelling a rocket crossbow at Tubbo’s form, the boy in shock from the terror of it all, Quackity knew he should feel angry that Tubbo was actually working with the people they exiled. He had betrayed the country he worked for, Schlatt had trusted him to be his right hand man!</p><p>But Quackity couldn’t be angry, not at Tubbo. Looking at the small kid, he didn’t see a traitorous enemy of the state, a mole committing acts of treason wherever he saw fit. He saw a frightened child in a suit that somehow looked much too big for his tiny body, even though he knew it was personally tailored for him.</p><p>He was instead angry at Schlatt, because Quackity hadn’t the faintest idea that this <em> atrocity </em> was the true intention of his little “celebration of democracy,” as he so plainly put it. He was so fucking tired of being pushed around by the man! Sure his own position was lower than Schlatt’s, but they went into this presidency as partners! He deserves respect, to be kept in the loop!</p><p>At that moment, surrounding the yellow concrete makeshift box, his true role in Schlatt’s administration was clearer than ever to Quackity. He was nothing more than his metaphorical bitch. He was used for his personality, his charisma, his votes.</p><p>In Schlatt’s dark crimson eyes, Quackity was nothing more than <em> useful. </em></p><p>—o—</p><p>Quackity gingerly touches the huge gash of a scar which travels from his beanie to his cheek, completely engulfing his right eye. The yellow concrete on the podium was nowhere near structurally sound, and the triple explosions from the fireworks had torn it apart, most of it crumbling to pieces and entombing the poor boy trapped within.</p><p>Luckily, Tubbo had died to the searing pyrotechnics themselves prior to the imposing yellow box crumbling on top of him. Quackity was not so lucky, and the sharp chunk of concrete sent flying right into his face was proof of that.</p><p>Once he finally respawned in his blue bed, he willed himself to get up before noticing that the room looked slightly different. He couldn’t... focus. On anything. His vision was only ever one single image he could move around. Once he looked in a mirror, his fears were confirmed. He was blind in his right eye, even after his body rebuilt itself in the respawning process.</p><p>At least it made him look like a real badass.</p><p>Needless to say, he didn’t return to Manburg after that, finding his way to Pogtopia the very same day. Quackity knew he made the right choice when he and Tommy snuck out to the country the next day and discovered that the white house he built with Tommy and Wilbur as a show of solidarity for the then-upcoming election.</p><p>Someone has to <em> pay </em> for all this shit, preferably Technoblade, but given the current situation, he was more than glad to settle for Dream. In his seething anger, Quackity doesn’t notice Puffy suddenly stop moving and look down at her communicator.</p><p>He does notice, however, when she calls for the attention of the other four party members. “Hey- hey, guys!” she calls to nobody in particular.</p><p>Eret is the first to acknowledge her. “Puffy, what is it? More messages?” he responds, stopping to look at her.</p><p>“Well, it’s- it’s not... Eret, people are <em> dying.</em>” Puffy seems to forcefully push the words out of her.</p><p>Quackity’s brain finally catches up with what’s going on at the moment. “Fucking <em> what?! </em> ” he blurts out, instantly searching for his communicator in his inventory and taking it out. He scrolls to the <em> Deaths </em> tab on instinct.</p><p><span class="msg">xChips was decapitated by ____ using </span><span class="enchant">[<em>Netherite axe</em>]</span><br/>
<span class="msg">avacoe was slain by ____ using </span> <span class="enchant">[<em>Netherite sword</em>]</span><br/>
<span class="msg">WendyLilac was shot by ____ using </span> <span class="enchant">[<em>Crossbow</em>]</span></p><p>The third and most recent message had appeared as Quackity was inspecting the other two, eliciting a verbal gasp in reaction from some of the other people present, namely Ghostbur and Fundy.</p><p>Quackity inspects the enchantments listed on the weapons that the mystery killers used. The enchantments were very high level, it had to be Dream. Besides, there’s no way Tubbo would have willingly killed any of these people! Names were only censored like that when they were invisible, and the fact that the messages had sent at all meant that they were somewhere within the SMP, using the network set up by Sam from what seemed like an eternity ago.</p><p>The situation just turned from dire to deadly within an instant.</p><p>—o—</p><p>Eret simply cannot believe what he’s seeing. He has to take off his sunglasses for a moment just to make sure he’s reading his communicator correctly, cringing harshly at the bright sunlight entering his pure white pupils as he removes the protective shades.</p><p>Yes, that definitely said decapitated. Some poor soul had just been killed by having their head chopped clean off. It was such a gruesome way to go, and Eret didn’t want to think about it for too long. Sure he had a strong enough stomach, he was one year older than Wilbur, but it's not like he <em> wanted </em> to think about someone’s head rolling around on the ground next to the rest of its lifeless body.</p><p>Three people had just died within the span of a minute, and the weapons used had almost maxed out enchantments, it <em> had </em> to be Dream! It didn’t take a redstone scientist to figure that out.</p><p>And where there was Dream, there was sure to be Tubbo.</p><p>Eret refuses to waste any more precious time. The group is about ten minutes out from the Nether portal destination, and now they’re standing around staring at their comms instead of getting there sooner!</p><p>Taking matters into his own hands again, Eret doles out a few ender pearls to the group. “Everyone! We need to be there <em> now! </em> Stay on top of those messages Puffy, you know what to do.”</p><p>Ghostbur looks visibly anxious and nervous, ethereal form beginning to fray slightly. <span class="ghostbur">“Eret, is- is Tubbo alright? I-I don’t like this, what’s- what’s happening?”</span> he asks the king apprehensively. <span class="ghostbur">“I’m sorry I don’t have any more blue on me at the moment...”</span></p><p>Eret curses himself for simply not being able to tell the spirit the truth, because he doesn’t <em> know </em> the truth! His sad gray eyes are just afraid for the safety of his family, he has every right to feel this way. “Ghostbur, we just don’t know yet. I’m terribly sorry, but we have to <em> go. </em> Puffy, stay with him and make sure he makes his way to the portal alright, the rest of us are pearling over there.” he turns to Quackity and Fundy, “Let’s go.”</p><p>“Way ahead of you, <em> me lord.</em>” Quackity fakes an accent and uses the title to mock him, but the king can’t care about that right now, the vice president is just stressed. They all are. Quackity teleports away with purple particles hanging in the air before Eret can even respond.</p><p>“Yes, please!” Fundy calls. The fox hybrid has a personal attachment to this situation, he is Wilbur’s adopted son after all, even if he really doesn’t feel like it ever since the election. Tommy and Tubbo are still his uncles, despite being older than both of them, and Philza remains his grandfather. The bonds of family are weak, but they still exist.</p><p>With the use of the pearls shining a cool teal color, the three reached their destination in under two minutes. Dashing up the blackstone steps and through the ornate gateway, they looked on the scene in front of them.</p><p>It was worse than Eret could’ve imagined, because there’s the headless corpse of one of the kingdom’s guards. Right there, on the mixed black and natural stone floor, adjacent to a very sizable pool of blood. The field medics hadn’t even arrived yet to cover the body with a large cloth, used to cover bodies to protect gruesome scenes from onlookers while still letting it be known that someone was dead underneath it.</p><p>The bloody scene startled Eret harshly when he noticed the body’s entire head was missing, even though his communicator had clearly told him that someone died by losing their head.</p><p>Eret was downright mortified once he realized that the poor soul had died <em> minutes </em> ago and the body was still there, while the other two deaths were little more than leftover piles of items.</p><p>That was their last life.</p><p>The two L’Manburgians seemed to notice it, too. Fundy is the first to react to the gory spectacle. “Oh <em> fuck, </em> I think I’m gonna be sick-” Fundy cries. He covers his extended snout with a paw and lets out a wet gurgling sound from the bottom of his throat, turning away from the sickening scene.</p><p>“Whoa there Fundy, I gotcha,” he hears Quackity say, rushing over to the hybrid to give a few friendly comforts, easing back the bile that clearly just entered his throat. Fundy suddenly bends over at the waist and props himself on the gateway arch, vomiting onto the stone below and soiling his casual shoes a bit. “Just let it out, man.” Quackity continues.</p><p>The sickly heaving attracts the attention of a female guard trying and mostly failing to tend the wounds of another guardsman. “S-sire!” she shouts in surprise. “Look alive guys, the king is here!”</p><p>The two remaining castle guards quickly turn towards Eret, stand straight as a pole, push their heels together, and give a formal salute with their fingers outstretched on their foreheads. The female returns her attention to the injured man, who also weakly salutes with his one good arm.</p><p>“At ease. What the <em> hell </em> happened here?!” Eret finally has the time to take in the rest of the scene atop the raised plateau of stone on which the Nether portal sits. Or, used to sit. The monarch hadn’t noticed it before by some miracle, but the obsidian border has fallen over into a pit of stone with the smell of sulphur, an obvious sign of a detonation. Judging by the size of the hole, it was a full bundle of TNT.</p><p>The jet black obsidian, tinted with deep purple accents, is exceptionally strong and sturdy, and as such, conventional explosives can do virtually nothing to even hope of denting its polished surface. The rectangular portal was of course completely empty inside, the swirling purple vortices having been shattered by the explosion, most likely by Dream. It was a maneuver well cunning enough to fit the masked madman’s skillful reputation, and Eret knew he had an unhealthy penchant for explosives.</p><p>The young guard starts, exasperated, probably still trying to register the slaughter that just unfolded in front of him. The second other guard opts to sit the conversation out, letting the man who approached Eret take charge. “We- we don’t know! We were guarding the Nether portal, as ordered by you and Captain Puffy, when- an axe just... appeared! And it... oh, <em> Chips...</em>”</p><p>Right, he almost forgot, the message on his device had read out <em> xChips </em> as the first death. Eret places a hand on his shoulder, the guard he was speaking to was probably only a year or two older than Tubbo. “Please, calm down. What’s your name? Were you close to this... Chips?”</p><p>“Um, it’s Matt, y-your highness. Mattheuw on comms.” replied the- Matt replied. “We weren’t <em>that</em> close, but we were in the same regiment, of course we were friends! God, he was always so reckless...”</p><p>Alright. Eret knows what he needs to do now. “Hang on a second, I’ll be right back.” He slowly strides over to Chips’ deceased form, unclasping his cloak from around his shoulders and draping the gold-trimmed royal garb over the corpse of the guard.</p><p>Glancing over to the—oh, god, the <em> head, </em> Eret bends down and takes two fingers to close its eyes. He takes out his sword and, with the widest end of the blade, lifts the cape and gingerly pushes it under underneath with the rest of the body. He truly hates having to desecrate a corpse like this, practically sweeping it under the rug, but he also really doesn’t want to pick up a <em> severed fucking head </em> today.</p><p>“Sleep well, Chips.” Eret gives a solemn salute.</p><p>He turns back to Matt who had been watching the whole thing, and rightfully so.  “Thank you, sire. You didn’t have to do that.”</p><p>“Don’t worry, it’s the least I can do.” It seems Fundy also recovered from his bout of sickness, as he and Quackity were also walking towards Eret and Matt.</p><p>“I whispered the captain, she said they’re only a few minutes out. You can probably see them coming up on the community house soon, actually.” Quackity stated plainly.</p><p>“Okay, I’d rather just wait for them to be here so we can all hear the story. This matter concerns everyone in the whole Dream SMP.” Truth is, Eret feared the worst. He wanted everyone there so that the events wouldn’t have to be recited a second time. He turns back to Matt of the castle guard. “Are more people on their way? Medics, workers to fix the portal? We should prop it back up instead of building a new one, less time wasted.”</p><p>“The medics are on their way, nobody else, though. Should I contact my superior to send some men, sire? I mean, E- Eret.” The ordinary guard was clearly still uncomfortable from the situation which had sent him reeling.</p><p>“No, that’ll take too long...” Eret holds his chin in thought.</p><p>Creating a Nether portal was not as simple as throwing obsidian in a square and striking a flint. The blocks had to be carefully crafted and built accordingly, with utmost accuracy taken into the dimensions of the rectangle to ensure they were correct for a portal. The community portal was a good deal larger than the standard two-by-three design, but they didn’t need to rebuild the exact same portal again. Plus, the castle stockpiles definitely included properly chiseled blocks of obsidian.</p><p>No, the issue here was the calibration needed in the process of creating a brand-new Nether portal. It worked by magic, of course, and the volcanic rock must be imbued properly with the correct enchantments in order for the portal to actually open when lit. The calibration alone took ten minutes even in the most skilled of craftsmen, and gathering the materials would be another half hour. On the bright side, the sturdiness of obsidian meant that the portal could almost always simply be relit if the magical portion of the gateway were to ever break.</p><p>After a few seconds of coming up with a plan, he gets one. He turns to Fundy and Quackity. “Do either of you have a flint and steel?”</p><p>Fundy answers, with a certain weakness to his voice. “I do, always keep one on me, ever since, well... Schlatt happened. What are you going to do with it? The portal’s toppled over.”</p><p>Eret grins. “I’m going to light it.”</p><p>Quackity’s mismatched eyes widen. “Eret, are you crazy?! You can’t light a damn portal sideways, there’s no telling what would happen!” he shouts incredulously.</p><p>Eret takes the lighter offered in Fundy’s padded hands. “Well, I don’t see why not. It’s obsidian, so it wouldn’t have taken any damage, and it’s in the same physical location, so it should still link to the Nether hub. I’ll go through first to assure it’s safe, if you want.”</p><p>Quackity scoffs. “By all means, go right ahead. Don’t blame me if you end up right in the middle of a lava lake.”</p><p>Eret was already running towards the portal.</p><p>Climbing into the hole, he holds the flint and steel above the black and purple frame, then strikes the flint harshly with the curved piece of iron. He watches as the embers float down, and the moment one of them passes the threshold of the very center cross-section of the obsidian frame, the previously empty space instantly burns into great magical purple color with a loud <em> whoosh. </em></p><p>“Yes, it worked!” Eret explains with a triumphant laugh. “Oh, ye of little faith!”</p><p>Rolling his eyes, Quackity claps mockingly. “<em>Great job, </em> Eret. Are you gonna try it out now?”</p><p>Eret is already dipping his finger into the portal, just to check that there’s open air on the other side. After a few seconds of nothing happening, he carefully levels his face into the swirling purple color, getting a look onto the other side.</p><p>Sure enough, the other side still connected to the Nether hub! Eret ducked his head in up to his neck to look around, and- holy shit that’s disorienting. His head experienced a totally different gravity than the rest of his body did, and it threatened to make him dizzy enough to fall into the portal the rest of the way. Eret quickly pulls his head back out to tell the others that the portal works just fine.</p><p>“Hey guys! The portal- oh, Puffy!” Eret spots his Captain coming up from behind Quackity and Fundy, closely trailed by Ghostbur. He clambers out of the stone crater and dusts himself off to greet the fluffy sheep fighter and vacant spirit, gesturing for Matt to come over and tell his side of the traumatic events.</p><p>Ghostbur wears the same hollow smile as he always does. <span class="ghostbur">“Hello everyone! What happened here, why has the Nether portal fallen over?”</span></p><p>Instead of answering, Eret introduces the guard to the two new arrivals. “Puffy, Ghostbur, this is Matt. He was here when it happened, saw the whole thing. We were waiting for you to ask him precisely what he witnessed.”</p><p>Ghostbur lights up instantly and quickly drifts over to the potential new friend. <span class="ghostbur">“Well, hello Matt! I’m Ghostbur! I’m sorry I don’t have any blue for you, you look worried... Just know that I’m always happy to meet new people!”</span></p><p>The young adult guardsman is visibly sweating nervous beads when he’s put face-to-face with the ethereal entity. “Ah, he- hello, Ghost... bur?”</p><p><span class="ghostbur">“Oh Matty, please don’t be afraid, I promise I’ll give you some blue as soon as I make more! For now though, I can give you this,”</span> he outstretches a mostly transparent hand and taps Matt’s nose with a gray index finger. <span class="ghostbur">“<em>boop!</em>”</span></p><p>While the ghost was introducing himself to his new friend, Puffy pulled Eret to the side to talk with him discreetly. She pointed with her narrow, slitted pupils to the royal cape covering a very obvious lump in the middle. “Eret, is that?...” she whispers, making a swiping motion across her throat with extended fingers, each capped with tiny hooves.</p><p>Eret only nods once, slowly.</p><p>Her eyes widen greatly, and she instantly claps her hands, finger-caps hitting each other on opposite hands with a <em> click. </em> “Oo-kay! Ghostbur, how about we let the man speak so we can all know what happened!”</p><p>Matt silently mouths <em> thank you </em> in Puffy’s direction.</p><p>“Yes, please. Just what the hell <em> happened </em> here?” Quackity spoke up. All five people in the group were paying close attention now.</p><p>The footman guard takes a deep breath and begins. “Yes, well. We were guarding the portal, as ordered, when all of a sudden this huge combat axe appeared out of thin air, and... y-yeah. Before we even knew what was going on, a sword does the same, and kills Ave through the chest. The rest is mostly a blur, but then <em> they </em> were the ones surrounding the portal. The one with the sword puts down TNT, axe guy lights it, arrows were flying back and forth, it was a mess.”</p><p>He jerks a thumb behind him. “Then they showed up. Just in time too, another buddy of mine was hit through the shoulder, and Wendy went down as well. She’ll be fine once she respawns, Ave as well, but he’s got only one life left now. By the time the smoke dissipated, the portal had fallen over and they were gone.”</p><p>Matt hangs his head sadly and rubs his arm. “There were five of us there originally, I was... I was the only one... <em> spared.</em>”</p><p>Eret walks up to him, putting a hand on his shoulder and surprising him into looking up at his dark sunglasses. “Castle guardsman Matt, take the rest of the week off-duty. Your king demands it.”</p><p>Matt lets a small laugh escape him. “Thanks, Eret. So... you think this was the work of Dream and President Tubbo, then?”</p><p>Eret sighs, removing his hand from Matt’s shoulder. “Yes, I do. There’s really no other possibility.” Right as he finishes the sentence, he hears a wispy gasp sound off from behind him. He turns to meet Ghostbur’s shocked expression, tightly clutching at his pale yellow sweater in place of one of his colored handouts.</p><p><span class="ghostbur">“Wha- Eret, you can’t believe Dream and <em>Tubbo</em> did this, surely. Little Tubs? Y-you think he... he <em>killed</em> these people?”</span> The slash in the center of his chest begins to turn a shade of blue.</p><p>“Wil- Ghostbur, no, I don’t-” Eret starts to move to comfort him as his form begins to disintegrate again. “We don’t have all the facts yet. There’s no way to be sure... <em> but, </em> they did both go missing less than an hour ago, and they were spotted entering the Dream SMP from the very same Nether portal. As far as we know, there’s only one possible answer.”</p><p>Ghostbur is hysteric. <span class="ghostbur">“Well, I guess, if that’s... no. No, no! H-he couldn’t have done this, no! There has to- has to be another- <em>another-</em>”</span> He can’t push the rest of the words out. The hole in his chest is a deep blue now, leaking steadily, and the same color is beginning to dribble out of the corner of his pale mouth.</p><p>Puffy jumps into action. “Alright, Ghostbur, let’s get you calmed down. Come on, follow me.” She eases the ghost away from the stressful situation before his nearly transparent extremities can vanish any more than they already have. “How about I help you look for some blue, would you like that?”</p><p>“Eret, what the <em> fuck! </em>” yells Quackity.</p><p>“Ghostbur’s right, I know Tubbo, we <em> all </em> know Tubbo, he would never do this. Eret, what is going on?” Fundy asks, a bit panicked.</p><p>Eret takes his sunglasses off for a moment to pinch the bridge of his nose harshly. “Look, I don’t know. I-” he starts before pausing, turning around to look at Matt. “Guardsman Matt, you’re dismissed. Thank you so much for your bravery here today, but this is somewhat sensitive information, we really don’t want just anyone knowing about it. Go have fun on your days off.”</p><p>The guard salutes politely with a grin. “Right away, sire!” he says, somewhat playfully, as he turns to leave.</p><p>Once Matt is out of earshot, Eret continues. “Right then, gentlemen. A few days ago, Philza found his way to the medical tent with Tubbo unconscious in his arms. Apparently he had passed out from exhaustion, he was running through the Nether. When they woke up, they talked about what happened, and Tubbo admitted that he actually went to go see Tommy instead of Sam, like he told everyone. He was furious at Tubbo, and it shook him up <em> very </em> badly. Ranboo showed up along the way, and they realized that something about Tommy didn’t add up, so the three of them left to see for themselves.”</p><p>Fundy puts the pieces together, ears pushing down against his head in grief. “And now Phil and Ranboo are missing, Tubbo returned with Dream of all people, then... <em> this </em> happened.” He waves a paw in the direction of the Nether portal.</p><p>Eret nods slowly. “That’s right, Fundy. <em> Nothing </em> is right about this. You two know how Dream operates, right? The bastard is the one factor tying everything together, what I haven’t figured out is how.”</p><p>Quackity finally finds the words he’s been searching for. “So let me get this straight. Dream is the reason that <em> all </em> this shit is happening? Oh, I’m gonna fuckin’ <em> kill him.</em>”</p><p>“All I know right now is we have to get to Logsteadshire. That’s the place Tommy is exiled in. If he’s alive, and I have a feeling he is, then we’ll know Tubbo lied at the announcement earlier. Hopefully, we’ll also figure out <em> why.</em>”</p>
<hr/><p class="ghostbur">“Thank you for helping me find some more blue, Puffy! You know how much I love this color. It’s the color of Friend!”</p><p>Ghostbur didn’t know why he was out in the field, collecting blue. But that’s okay! He doesn’t remember much these days, anyway. What he does know is that other people feel better when he gives them blue! It makes Ghostbur feel nice when other people feel nice.</p><p>Ever since he started existing two months ago, however, he’s remembered <em> a lot </em> more. He didn’t know Phil, but Ghostbur felt right calling him dad, like he meant much more to him in another life. It was strange, he always felt like he had someone else’s memories, someone that everyone apparently called Wilbur.</p><p>Nobody liked Wilbur.</p><p>Everybody was always so sad whenever they talked about Wilbur. People felt much better talking to Ghostbur, so he was glad to discover that Wilbur had died! Ghostbur didn’t know much, but he knew that he had been given the memories of this Wilbur character, and that Ghostbur bore somewhat of a resemblance to him. Ghostbur knew he was dead, that he was a ghost, so that’s why he gave himself the name Ghostbur! It was rather silly, but it felt perfect for him.</p><p>He could tell that there were two very different versions of Wilbur. There was one from the past, that people talked about with love and praise, but there was also one that people didn’t like talking about. That version was referred to as crazy, destructive, and it made Ghostbur sad to hear about him, because talking about him made other people sad.</p><p>He decided to call the bad one Alivebur, because that was the last time he was alive. It was good he was dead! Ghostbur discovered that he was the villain, he had turned from the hero Wilbur to the evildoer Alivebur. He was so happy for his family, they won! The villain was dead, they should be celebrating!</p><p>But... nobody celebrated. Nobody was happy. Maybe that’s why he gave them all blue, because Alivebur dying made everyone sad, and Ghostbur wanted them to be happy!</p><p>He had also been granted Wilbur’s family. Tommy, his energetic little brother. He had been scared by Alivebur, he hated Alivebur. But, he also wanted to hate Ghostbur, probably because they looked similar. There was Tubbo, not the youngest, but he was the smallest. He wasn’t technically Wilbur’s brother, but he was just as much a part of the family as the rest of them. Technoblade was Wilbur’s powerful twin brother! He was something of a recluse, a trait which began ever since he turned into a pig one day, but Wilbur knew he still cared.</p><p>Oh, then there’s Phil! That’s their father. Wilbur loved him most of all, Alivebur wanted Phil to be proud of him. But... he wasn’t. Phil was reluctant to leave the family home for good, until he... he appeared, in- in the</p><p>And Fundy! That’s his fox son. Well, he wasn’t really Wilbur’s son, because he was a hybrid, and Wilbur wasn’t. That would’ve been silly. Ghostbur gave Fundy a lot of blue, because he didn’t like talking to him very much. He wouldn’t call Ghostbur his dad like he did Wilbur. It’s no problem! Fundy just has too much sadness still, he needs more blue to suck it all out.</p><p>“Okay, we’ve been gathering for a while now, we should get back to Eret and head over to Logsteadshire. Do you think you’ll be able to remember how to get there through the Nether?” Puffy asked. Ghostbur liked Puffy, she was nice and friendly with almost everyone she met.</p><p><span class="ghostbur">“We’re going to Logsteadshire? I haven’t been able to go there in almost a month, are we going to visit Tommy?”</span> Everyone liked Tommy! Wilbur, Alivebur, and Ghostbur all loved him! Tommy was currently on a vacation, he needed to get some quality time away from everyone, but Ghostbur made sure he had a constant two-way connection to his best friend Tubbo by giving them each a compass that pointed to the other! It was a great gift, they both appreciated it so much, it made Ghostbur very happy to see them smile.</p><p>“Yes, we’re going to visit Tommy, but we all need you because only you know how to get there.” She’s so polite.</p><p><span class="ghostbur">“Oh, can I bring Friend? I’m sure Toms would love to meet him, he always adored pets.”</span> He remembers Wilbur's memory of his brother's favorite pet cow.</p><p>“No, Ghostbur, we can’t bring your pet sheep. I’m sorry, the Nether is too dangerous for him. Please, let’s go back to Eret, he’s waiting patiently for us.” She sounds a bit impatient now. He doesn’t like that, so he’ll agree to make her nice again.</p><p><span class="ghostbur">“Aww, alright. Lead the way, Captain!”</span> He performs an exaggerated salute with a playful grin across his face.<span> The thought of the action never failed to remind him of something, reminds him of bravery and victory and his family.</span></p><p>Ghostbur happily follows Puffy to the Nether portal, humming the cheerful tune to an anthem of a place he once called home.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>or, eret gets his wholesome ass in gear</p><p>Welcome to the character development chapter! I know, I know. What a boring thing to decide this chapter to be all about, right? But don't worry! I also introduce a few new characters, and the beauty of it is that they can look like anything you want! The only real headcanon I have is that Dan has a moustache. I also gave Ghostbur a true backstory this time, and even went as far as to make it more painful. Yay! Consider his own memory book as sort of a manual on how to act like Wilbur. I wrote him kinda like how I've been writing Tommy, but without the word problems. Basically, the POV is like 70% just feelings and emotions and only 30% describing the actual things happening around him. Personally, I think it's pretty pog!</p><p>Welcome to also the longest chapter so far. That's right, I've done it again. 6700 words. The previous longest was 6650, just barely claiming the top spot.</p><p>I'm sorry it's been such a long time since the last update, but I've been catching up on home and schoolwork, plus I just had an engineering midterm. And, of course, spending from the first to the fourth of March crying about what's been going on in the canon streams. Goddamn allium flower...<br/>But don't worry! I've gotten properly caught up on everything, I'm even ahead on some work as well, and I really have the time for writing more chapters! Oh boy, you guys have no idea what I have in store in the very near future. I wanted to put it in this chapter, actually, but I decided I was going to have to split it up, or else it would be a 10k word chapter. I'd rather not torture my beta like that.</p><p>As always, thank you for any support for this fic! I read everything, even check the kudos every so often for someone I recognize. I've already talked about what the next chapter is going to entail, Eret and the remaining cabinet go to Logsteadshire, and what they find there. So, I'll also tell you that the chapter afterwards should be the long-awaited Technoblade chapter! I'm telling you now it is going to pop the fuck off.</p><p>Edit: fun fact, the four names I introduced in this chapter are all actual Minecraft account usernames! I got them off of namemc. Only Dan's username was made up.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0016"><h2>16. A Cry for Help</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Everything that can go wrong, does, and everyone involved needs some help to prevent losing horribly to the strongest adversary they will ever meet:<br/>Themselves.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>You remember how I've been talking about the chapter where I drop that huge, game-changing plot development?<br/>This is that chapter.</p><p><b>This will be the last (semi) consistent update!</b> It's going on a little bit of a hiatus, more info in the end notes.<br/>in advance i am sorry for making the end notes so huge (i used literally every single character available)</p><p>Edit: Updated the red text to say Tommy instead of kid, I decided I liked that better. Two nicknames in such a short time seemed a bit much, and finding out that Tommy’s thoughts are gone should make the mystery character get serious for a second</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Believe it or not, Dream is actually very thankful that Tubbo made the undeniably bold move of going against his will. He’s fully aware how noble Tubbo’s intentions were, he was just attempting to grant his potential saviors as much time as he possibly could to reach Logsteadshire and rescue everyone that he had locked up previously. Dream’s very own toy was trying to make a move to save his own skin, to fight back against his owner.</p><p>Dream grins madly. It was so much more <em> satisfying </em> when they tried to resist.</p><p>Now that Tubbo had tried to fight back, Dream had all the reason in the world to make him <em> suffer </em> for it. He now possessed an excuse to fall back on whenever Tubbo would beg and grovel at his feet to give him food, to give him mercy, to give him his own body back.</p><p>Dream envisions laughing in his scared face, waiting for another string of pleas to exit his mouth to promptly silence Tubbo in an instant using his sock in the middle of a string of pathetic sounds. That’s what his toys were made for: to be used, to be enjoyed, to be <em> owned. </em></p><p>To be played with.</p><p>And boy, was it <em> fun. </em></p><p>By all accounts, Dream was absolutely furious when he realized that Tubbo had withheld the truth, had <em> lied </em> to him by not telling him that there was a group of people coming to save them. Tubbo had clearly noticed them a number of minutes prior as well, but somehow he thought the best idea was to simply not mention the sighting.</p><p>It was a shame, really. Dream <em> had, </em> in fact, been merciful to Tubbo this one final time. He allowed the boy to take a quick rest and have a small meal before he would inevitably return to the cramped jail in exile, kept there just long enough until the situation cooled down enough for them to return to the SMP. Dream had considered building a very similar jail underground in L’Manburg for their return, possibly underneath the white house. His toys would certainly be within playing distance at all times, simply arousing less suspicion for everyone involved.</p><p>But no, Tubbo just couldn’t let that happen. Even after Dream had given him time to rest and eat, even after he let the little president get a new change of clothes and a fucking <em> shower, </em> Tubbo just couldn’t accept that this is the way things are now, and let his friends get by without saying a word.</p><p>Why were they even in the Nether to begin with? The merry little band of five were clearly on their way to Logsteadshire, but they shouldn’t even know the area existed in the first place, let alone the knowledge that it was currently Dream’s base of operations. Tubbo’s compass which pointed directly to them had been confiscated, and the only other person who had ever visited Tommy in exile was Ghostbur. Dream had made sure the gray ghost would give up on visiting once he removed the Nether-side portal the day he first enchanted Tommy, hopefully forgetting the route entirely. Yet there he was, able to lead four other people to one Dream’s best-kept secrets.</p><p>Ghostbur was no leader, that was for damn sure. Someone else had to have known about Logsteadshire. Maybe not its location, but at least of its existence, and also knew that Ghostbur had frequented the land in the past. Someone that Tubbo told, but didn’t allow to follow them back to Logsteadshire the second time. It didn’t really matter who it was anymore, since now there were at least four major players who would soon know what was going on. There’s no telling how many people <em> they </em> talked to about this. Eret was a king, he could get the word out to a very large amount of people.</p><p>He imagined he would forcefully pry the answers to his questions out of Tubbo sometime later. He was so relieved that all the remorse he once felt for his toy left his mind the moment they tried to disobey and lie to him. His plans were coming along so perfectly, he absolutely was <em> not </em> about to let one of his toys fuck everything up, ruin the entire operation from the inside.</p><p>He just wanted everything to be perfect! Was that so much to fucking <em> ask?! </em> He couldn’t fail, not after so many months of <em> work </em> to get here. He couldn’t fail, he just couldn’t! Everything had to be perfect. Everything.</p><p>And Dream would do <em> anything </em> to keep it that way. Playing with people as his playthings just happened to be both the most entertaining and most efficient method of attaining his goals of comprehensive control over the entire SMP. </p><p>It was an elegant solution, really. All he had to do was make sure they couldn’t leave, and that nobody could come save them, because they were physically unable to resist the enchantment he placed on each and every one of them. They’d do anything he wanted, say anything he wanted, and the entire remaining population would be none the wiser.</p><p>He was well aware that Tommy actually considered himself to be one of Dream’s items, but that hadn’t been his intention. That particular development was nothing more than a happy accident.</p><p>Dream wouldn’t exactly complain if Tubbo met a similar end.</p>
<hr/><p>“Lead the way, Ghostbur!” Eret casually instructs.</p><p>“And make it snappy! I want to get to this <em> Log-ste-shear </em> and beat Dream the hell up!” Quackity added with one hand grasping the other in a fist, frustration steadily rising.</p><p><span class="ghostbur">“Well, it has been a quite a while since I’ve been to Logsteadshire, but I believe it is...”</span> The ghost’s head is on a swivel as he carefully inspects each of the four cardinal directions leaving the recently renovated Nether hub. <span class="ghostbur">“This way! Yes, I think this is right. I’m pretty sure I recognize the basalt.”</span></p><p>Eret is the first to follow in Ghostbur’s silent footsteps. The group had entered the portal as soon as he returned from gathering a bit of blue with Puffy, through the toppled-over Nether portal. It was an incredibly strange experience, Eret had to step through very carefully as to not <em> completely </em> stumble over onto his face from the change in gravity. It became strikingly obvious to him today why Nether portals were always built vertically. He went so far as to hold his hands through to the other end of the portal and let them hold on so they didn’t stumble. Puffy, Quackity, and Fundy all had a similar experience with the change in gravitational poles as Eret did, but all Ghostbur did was float through and then rotate his body to the new climate in under a second. Small victories of being dead, he supposed.</p><p>The path to Logsteadshire was indeed very convoluted and twisted, like Tubbo had explained days ago. The Nether in general was used so often for ease of travel that the general area was more of a maze than a Every time there was a fork in the road, Ghostbur had to inspect every branching path multiple times to ensure he was going the correct direction. They had only been walking for about twenty minutes when the amnesiac spirit had led them astray for the second time, only realizing his error when they had been pacing along the wrong cobbled path for a few minutes.</p><p>It was beginning to get annoying, but Eret was nothing if not patient with Ghostbur, he understood his plight. He could tell that Puffy felt a similar way, but judging by the shouting in a foreign language that occurred every time Ghostbur realized his mistake, Quackity was <em> anything </em> but patient.</p><p>Fundy was silent most of the time, he just wanted to get this over with. Eret couldn’t blame him.</p><p>After about thirty minutes of walking, they found themselves at a cobblestone bridge barely wide enough for even three people to walk abreast. To everyone’s shock, Fundy finally speaks up for the first time since entering the burning plane. “Hey, Ghostbur, why did you stop visiting Tommy? You always came back with such cheerful things to say about him, so what gives?”</p><p>Ghostbur stops in the tracks to turn and address Fundy. <span class="ghostbur">“Well, the day after I gave Tubbo his compass, I was taking the path as usual, and I got lost. That’s not too out of the ordinary, but when I tried a few more times I just couldn’t find the portal anymore. I had no clue how to get there in the Overworld, and I had forgotten wh-where to go through the Nether...”</span> He clutches some blue in his hands tightly, its color darkening. <span class="ghostbur">“Eventually I mostly forgot about Tommy a-altogether...”</span></p><p>His sad frown completely wipes itself off of his transparent face, replacing it instantly with a beaming grin. <span class="ghostbur">“But it’s fine, we’re going to go see him now! It’s been quite a while since I’ve visited, you know, I’m sure you will all love the area. I built a camp, it’s very pretty!”</span></p><p>The sudden change in mood only serves to make Eret feel worse.</p><p>As they reach closer to their destination, the paths eventually stop branching out, the party of five finally leaving the web of bridges and tunnels that surrounded the Nether hub. As a bonus, less options means less mistakes by the leading spirit, so they could get to Tommy’s exile that much quicker. Everyone stews in their thoughts, trying to wrap their brains around what could possibly have happened. Expressions range from worried to angered to blissfully unaware, and everywhere in between.</p><p>They walk for another fifteen or so minutes in contemplative silence until someone speaks up again, and this time it’s Puffy’s turn. “Guys, I’m worried about Tommy and Tubbo, do you think they’re okay? I know Tubbo said he... killed Tommy, in self-defense, but... do any of you really believe that?”</p><p>Ghostbur answers quickly, confidently. <span class="ghostbur">“Well, of course not! I might not remember much, but I could never forget those two! Those two are closer than anyone you’ll ever meet, they’d <em>never</em> hurt each other. In fact, Tubbo even let Tommy take a vacation! I’m not exactly sure why, but I’m sure it was for his own good.”</span></p><p>Nobody had the heart to remind Ghostbur about the exile.</p><p>Except Quackity, that is. He tugs at his beanie in frustration.</p><p>“Oh, for fuck’s- Ghostbur, you were <em>there!</em> You <em>saw</em> Tubbo kick him-”</p><p>Eret swiftly and loudly cuts him off with his best royal tone of voice, “<b><em>Quackity.</em></b> That’s enough. Tell him all you want later, but we need him to get to Logsteadshire, to <em>Dream.</em> I know you want us to avoid any more disruptions, but we need to go about this intelligently, with a plan.” Once Quackity lets out a huff, Eret turns to Puffy.</p><p>“I think Ghostbur’s right. However, <em> none </em> of this makes sense. If Tubbo did lie, and if he did help kill those guards, that must mean Dream is holding something over his head, so to speak.”</p><p><em> Like a crown, </em> he thinks. Eret knows the feeling all too well, Dream is effectively the true king of the SMP, he has made that assertion abundantly clear.</p><p>Wait, why does he have to keep hiding it? They’re literally hunting Dream, he should give everyone more of a reason to hunt him down. In fact, he has a <em> duty </em> to everyone present, they need to know the truth! Dream has to pay for what he’s done, even before the current incident, and the other four barely know <em> half </em> of the story.</p><p>So, fuck it. Let them know. He’s kept this inside way too long.</p><p>“You want to know why I’m so certain Dream is behind this? I know <em> precisely </em> how Tubbo feels, I’ve been in his exact situation for months! Wilbur,” <span class="ghostbur">“Ghostbur,”</span> “I’m sorry you have to hear this, but when I first betrayed the revolution, I expected to be able to use my new position as king to secure independence and peace for everyone. <em> Especially </em> for L’Manburg. As it turned out, I could do nothing. Dream still held complete power over me, and he took every goddamn opportunity he could to remind me that he could ruin me in an instant if I didn’t do what <em> he </em> wanted!”</p><p>Catching his breath, Eret looks on over his friends’ reactions to the long-winded explanation he had just provided. Puffy looks sympathetic, which is nice, but the revolution was before her time. Ghostbur is... just sad. The simplest form of sadness Eret will probably ever see. Quackity doesn’t really care, but Eret would be lying if he said he actually expected him to make an effort to learn the history of the very country he tried running for president of.</p><p>Fundy’s face, however, is very complicated, almost completely unreadable.</p><p>“Eret, you... you did that... to <em> save </em> us? I don’t...” Fundy’s bright orange face hardens into something along the lines of a stark sense of anger, of hurt, of betrayal. “No, Eret, you... <em> you </em> made that decision to turn your god damn back on us. On <em> all </em> of us!” Fundy’s face wears full-on aggression and anger now, jabbing fingers at Eret’s chest and gesturing dramatically. “You tricked us! You said that L’Manburg wasn’t meant to be, you <em> let us die! </em> You betrayed an entire <em> family, </em> stood by while every one us lost our fucking <em> lives </em> to Dream and his followers!”</p><p>No, no, Fundy has it all wrong! Eret’s practically begging the fox to understand his point of view. “No, Fundy, that’s not true! I had to play the part, at least make it <em> seem </em> like I wanted to abandon the cause, which I didn’t! I was tricked just as much as you were. Dream didn’t <em> let </em> me help you, and I didn’t even know they were planning to kill you! I thought that they were just trying to capture you, or something.”</p><p>Fundy’s anger wavers before disappearing into deep grief, the barely legal adult’s face going flush. He stammers to get out the words in response, but fails miserably. So Eret continues, placing a hand on Fundy’s left shoulder. “Fundy, please. I know there’s absolutely nothing I can say or do to make up for the awful things I’ve done, but please know how deeply and truly <em> sorry </em> I am. I never meant to allow <em> any </em> of this to happen. That’s the truth.”</p><p>Fundy looks like he might cry, but is actively trying not to. Either that, or the heat of the Nether isn’t allowing any tears to leak from the corners of his eyes. “Eret, I had- I had no idea...” Stepping back from the apologetic hand, he takes a moment to straighten out and compose himself.</p><p>Puffy, on the other hand, is freely tearing up, but it's out of affection instead of sadness. “<em>Aww, you guys...</em>” She holds her hands out in front of her and tilts the fingers, gesturing to the other two to join her. “You’ve both made so much progress today, I think it’s time for a group hug. Get in here, all of you.” Eret eagerly joins her and goads a slightly reluctant Fundy into the warm and fluffy embrace.</p><p>Puffy always did give the best hugs. As a sheep hybrid, her wool coat was to thank for that, it held in her body heat and was likely the very same reason that she was called Puffy in the first place. Her captain’s suit, which almost looked more like the uniform of a captain of a pirate ship, did a wonderful job at maintaining the space between wool and skin. Unfortunately, Eret was sure that the heat of the Nether made the outfit almost unbearable to wear combined with the natural insulation.</p><p>After about five seconds of their arms around each other, he realizes there’s still only three people in what was supposed to be a hug for the entire group of five people. “Hey, hold on you two.” He releases them from his arms. “Um, where’s Quackity and Ghostbur?”</p><p>He hears cursing from under Fundy’s breath, clearly also realizing the missing party members. “Quackity must’ve bailed when he heard us getting all sappy, he hates that kinda stuff. Typical.”</p><p>Then it hits Eret. “Guys, only Ghostbur knows how to get to Logsteadshire, there’s no way we’ll come across the path without him! We have to find them, <em> now! </em>”</p><p>Fundy starts to panic a little bit. “Uhh, well, let’s split up then! Cover more ground and everything. There’s not that many branching paths left anyway, we should just be able to find our way eventually.”</p><p>Puffy, Eret, and Fundy all split up to cover ground, each dealing with their fair share of Nether-native hostile mobs. The all-encompassing heat of the dimension makes the search more difficult than it has any right to be, and they reconvene time and time again with no luck finding the two runaways.</p>
<hr/><p><span class="ghostbur">“Hey Quackity, why did we leave them behind? Shouldn’t we wait for them at the portal?”</span> Ghostbur asks in a curious tone. They’d been walking for a decent twenty minutes, and they were almost all the way to the portal exiting to Logsteadshire, a walk which should take approximately only fifteen more minutes. Since they were far away from the Nether hub, Ghostbur was able to recognize the correct path much more clearly, as there were fewer options, and so the duo encountered minimal setbacks.</p><p>He was so happy he remembered the path! Ghostbur surprised himself mostly, he didn’t think he had remembered it after all this time apart from his home away from home. But now, he could go visit Tommy whenever he wanted! They could be the lads on tour again! He’d like that, and he’s positive Tommy would like that as well.</p><p>“Well, Ghostbur, quite frankly, I was tired of wasting my goddamn time standing around and talking about nothing! We have a goal waiting for us on the other side of that portal, and <em> I </em> intend to confront that goal, even if it means having to fight Dream alone.” He replied sharply.</p><p>Abandoning his friends should’ve been Ghostbur’s first warning that something was amiss.</p><p>That... made sense. <span class="ghostbur">“Ah, I see. Well, if you think this is the best course of action, then I have no reason to doubt you, Big Q!”</span> It’s true, Ghostbur does trust Quackity. He was part of New L’Manburg, they were the good guys! Surely Quackity knew what he was doing.</p><p>Besides, Ghostbur would be lying to himself if he said he was comfortable listening to what Eret was talking about. He couldn’t remember what it was about, but he knew he wanted to leave, it was making him sad. It seems that Quackity felt the same way! How convenient. Does he also forget things like Ghostbur does? Who knows, as long as they left, he was happy.</p><p>He doesn’t want to use up more blue than he already has, he was saving a large amount for Tommy! Naturally, they haven’t spoken in a long time, Tommy must have a lot of sadness to catch up on. The blue was for him, no matter how badly Ghostbur wanted to use it himself.</p><p>—o—</p><p>Some time passes before they finally find the final netherrack staircase leading directly to the portal. <span class="ghostbur">“Here we are, Big Q! It’s strange, but this staircase wasn’t here last time. That must be why I got lost when I tried to find Tommy! Thankfully it’s here now, and I remember that the portal is right at the top of this!”</span></p><p>“I can’t thank you enough, Ghostbur. You’ve been a big help.” For some odd reason, Quackity doesn’t look at Ghostbur when he says that.</p><p><span class="ghostbur">“Oh, it’s no problem! I want to see Tommy as badly as you do, so let’s go!”</span> He says with a great big smile on his face. Wouldn’t want Quackity to feel sad, either!</p><p>Oh, Quackity is already halfway up the staircase. That’s fine, he’s just excited! It’s good to be excited for things, that’s how other people can tell you aren’t sad. <span class="ghostbur">“Wait up, Big Q!”</span></p><p>Quackity doesn’t even pause a single step before walking through the portal, Ghostbur floating not far behind. He finally enters the portal to Logsteadshire for the first time in around a month, yet the locale is so familiar it feels like he’s only been gone a day.</p><p><span class="ghostbur">“Welcome to Logsteadshire, Quackity! That tent over there belongs to Tommy, and the only other building is the settlement I built, with the logs! That’s why we call it Logsteadshire, you know. Isn’t it beautiful?”</span> He floats around the portal to take in the scenic view of the area. It’s just as pristine as he left it.</p><p>There is one thing Ghostbur doesn’t recognize, however. A simple cloth stretched across four pillars, serving as only a roof, like a small shelter that could be picked up and taken elsewhere if the need ever arose. <span class="ghostbur">“I don’t know what that tarp roof is for though, but it doesn’t appear to be much. Only some bookcases and a table. Do you like books, Q? I love books, I wrote all of Wilbur’s memories in one!”</span></p><p>Quackity is wholly uninterested. “That’s great, Ghostbur. Let’s check on Tommy, make sure he’s still breathing. Then, I’m <em> finishing </em> what I came here to do once and for all.” The tone he uses in the latter portion burns with a fire and determination Ghostbur hasn’t seen much of before.</p><p>Quackity’s one-track mind should’ve been his second warning.</p><p><span class="ghostbur">“Oh, okay! Let’s go see Tommy! I have a lot of blue to give him, he’s been overdue for quite some time.”</span> Quackity doesn’t even wait for Gostbur to finish his sentence before he’s already at his tent.</p><p>Walking in, he wastes no time looking at the interior of the white canvas before placing a hand hovering over Tommy’s mouth to check for signs of breathing. “Alright, looks like the kid’s breathing. Looks like shit though, but I guess he’s sleeping. Knock yourself out, Ghostbur, I have my own matters to attend to.”</p><p>Ghostbur can barely get out a <span class="ghostbur">“Bye-bye, Quackity!”</span> before he strides out of the tent with a burning anger in his eyes.</p><p>He turns his attention to Tommy’s sleeping form. <span class="ghostbur">“Hello Toms! It’s me, Ghostbur! It’s been such a long time since we’ve spoken! I have a lot of blue for you, since I’ve been gone so long.”</span></p><p>Ghostbur waits patiently for a response.</p><p>Nothing. That should’ve been his third warning.</p><p><span class="ghostbur">“Tommy? Come on, wake up. It’s your old pal Ghostbur!”</span> He nudges Tommy’s body a bit, Ghostbur’s form passes right through anything that’s too heavy. Luckily, Tommy looks very light!</p><p>Ghostbur waits again.</p><p>Nothing. That should’ve been his fourth warning.</p><p>He’s starting to get worried now. <span class="ghostbur">“Tommy, wh-what’s wrong? Please wake up. Can’t you hear me? I’m sorry I-I haven’t been here in such a long time, I just want to hear your voice again, Toms. Please.”</span> </p><p>Ghostbur tries putting some blue directly into Tommy’s hand and gently curls the fingers around it so he can feel the color doing what it does best.</p><p>The hand drifts back open, like there aren’t any muscles to keep it closed. Ghostbur can’t help but hold some of the blue in his own hands, now being genuinely frightened by Tommy’s utter lack of... <em> anything. </em></p><p>Now Ghostbur is flying into panic. <span class="ghostbur">“Tommy, please! Wake up! Y-You have to- to wake up, Tommy, please! Do- do you want me to be W-Wil- <em>Wilbur?</em> I can! I-I’ll be your br- your brother, Toms, please! You just have to <em>wake up!</em>”</span></p><p>He waits for the longest time yet, hoping beyond the scant hope he has left, that Tommy will show any sign of just being <em> alive, </em> let alone awake.</p><p>“... n-na- ame... Toy...” </p><p>That should’ve been his sixth warning.</p><p>
  <span class="ghostbur">“<em>What?</em>”</span>
</p><p>Ghostbur can hardly comprehend what that was. Was that... Tommy’s <em> voice? </em> It barely qualified as breathing, and while only being two words, they were choppy beyond belief. There’s no possible way that was his voice, there’s no <em> chance! </em> Sure Tommy was a good deal quieter during exile, but he still acted like he was <em> living! </em></p><p>
  <span class="ghostbur">“Tommy, wha- what do you m-mean, ‘<em>name toy</em>’? Th-that doesn’t- that doesn’t make- sense! Wh- what, no, no! Tommy, please, let me s-see your face! Open your eyes, Tommy! <em>Please!!</em>”</span>
</p><p>Softly pushing open Tommy’s eyelids with rapidly dissolving hands, when did he start disintegrating? Ghostbur recoils violently and launches himself off of Tommy’s bed at the sight of them.</p><p>Gray.</p><p>Gray like Ghostbur.</p><p>He received that warning loud and clear.</p><p>Memories came flooding back in an instant. Tommy sick in bed—dark blue eyes. Tommy lost in the woods—dark blue eyes. Tommy shot by Dream—dull blue eyes. Tommy in Pogtopia—hazy, dark blue eyes. Tommy in exile—dull, hazy, and barely blue eyes.</p><p>Always still blue.</p><p>Gray is bad. Gray is very, <em> very </em> bad! His eyes, that’s how you measure his mental state! Less blue, worse he was, and now his eyes are gray! <em> Gray! </em> There was no blue to be seen anywhere! Where did it go? <em> Where did his blue go?! </em></p><p>Can ghosts hyperventilate?</p><p><span class="ghostbur">“N-no, <em>no, no, no nonono! G-gray! Where- where’s his blue!</em>”</span> Ghostbur’s hands are entirely gone now, pieces floating away rapidly. What remains of his arms is disappearing and decaying rapidly. <span class="ghostbur">“Where, I-I-I can’t, I can’t, d- <em>do</em> anything! I have to- I have- to- to- go! I can’t- do- this!”</span> His legs, already mostly transparent at the feet, are next to go, the rest of his body still floating about. <span class="ghostbur">“<em>Tommy!</em> Tommy I’ll be- I’ll be- I’ll, I’ll be- be back!”</span> His torso now has frayed away into nothing leaving only his head, which is itself losing its grip on the current plane of reality. <span class="ghostbur">“Have to- have to get- get, help- W-Wi- Wilbur, help...”</span></p><p>Ghostbur ceases to exist.</p>
<hr/><p>Phil’s had a lot of time to think.</p><p>Now, finally, he believes he’s come up with a solid enough plan to send his message without Dream knowing about it, one that covers virtually all possible sequences of events.</p><p>For starters, using one of his messenger birds was completely off the table, they would never hope of being able to find Logsteadshire. Each one of them had worked tirelessly day in and day out while Phil was still living on the family farmstead, months before he arrived at the SMP, the faithful and trained letter-carriers deserved a break.</p><p>So, there was no hope of ever being able to get the message out himself. That meant someone would have to come to them, instead. Phil can only pray that it isn’t actually one single person, nobody would ever be able to take on Dream single-handed. The only person who stood a chance was Technoblade, but the area was entirely unfamiliar to him and Dream could very easily get the jump on his most powerful son.</p><p>Safety in numbers, they always say.</p><p>He had the note, and he had the ideas. That’s all he could ever have at a time like this, really. After Dream had taken every one of his personal belongings, including his hat, and locked them all up in a cramped jail cell for the whole day, Phil didn’t expect to be getting any of his items back any time soon.</p><p>He supposes it’s not that bad. It’s probably just the new normal by now, he would just have to get used to it. After all, Dream <em> did </em> declare Phil as another one of his toys, so naturally he wouldn’t be able to own things of his own anymore, might as well learn to live like the thing he is.</p><p>Reduced to nothing more than a...</p><p>No! No, no <em> no! </em> Stop <em> thinking </em> like that! God, those shitting sticks and their <em> intrusive </em> fucking thoughts. They’re getting to him, he can feel it. He can’t start thinking like that! He smacks his fist onto the cold stone floor in anger. If Phil falls to this accursed enchantment, then <em> everybody </em> else will fall, he’s their best hope of getting through this and continuing with the lives which they rightfully own.</p><p><em> None </em> of that is going to matter if he doesn’t manage to get them the hell away from that masked menace. It doesn’t matter what Phil thinks, no amount of brain power is able to resist the enchantment, and those thoughts of resistance would only get weaker and weaker as time passes. If Phil fails this task, he might as well build everyone’s coffins in advance.</p><p>That’s assuming Dream would actually grant them the dignity of a funeral.</p><p>—o—</p><p>A lot of time passes, the moments being filled with the grief of not being able to protect Tubbo. Of not being able to protect anyone else. It hurts Phil, deep down, to realize how thoroughly he’s failed in his responsibility as a father of four bright boys. Phil notices that the pain he feels this time around is a bit more... <em> visceral </em> than it has been before, but he chalks it up to yet more side effects from being enchanted by Dream. All his thoughts and emotions have been out of whack since he was released from the table, this is probably just yet another reaction.</p><p>At least it allows him to drown out... the other thoughts.</p><p>Phil has no clue what Tubbo’s been through in his and Dream’s absence, but knowing Dream, none of it can be good. Tubbo might not even come back the same person as he left, and the thought terrifies Phil.</p><p>That terror quickly turns into searing rage. If Dream so much lays a fucking <em> finger </em> on Tubbo’s head, he’s going to personally cut off every single one he has. It will be slow, it will be painful and it will probably not make him feel any better. Phil doubts anything short of destroying the sticks would make him feel any semblance of “better”.</p><p>But that’s just the thing, isn’t it? The sticks <em> can’t </em> be destroyed, because that would destroy every bone in his body. You could probably just remove it with an ordinary grindstone, but something about the enchantment process he underwent told Phil that it was something very unnatural, there’s a good chance it can’t ever be removed.</p><p>He tries to tip his head back onto the stony wall and let out a sigh in frustration, when he discovers that he can’t.</p><p>Phil can’t open his mouth, it’s like his lips are stitched together with string. He can’t even mumble, which he tries to do, but his vocal cords feel like they’re being pulled taut by an outside force, unable to respond to Phil’s will and make the sounds he wants them to make.</p><p>Beginning to panic, he stands up slowly in an effort to communicate to Ranboo what’s going on. Walking over to the hybrid, Phil reaches out and puts a hand on his shoulder to get his attention. Ranboo darts his head towards Phil, startled, before pausing and looking like had just realized that he also can’t open his mouth. The hybrid promptly starts to panic and grip his chin tightly, likely trying to pry it open.</p><p>This could only mean one thing. Dream has finally returned.</p><p>Phil’s blood starts to boil in seething hatred.</p><p>He can’t be angry, not right now. Not when the lives of everyone hangs so delicately in the balance. He’s been planning their collective escape for hours now, it has to work, it just has to! Phil readies the written note in his inventory, mentally preparing to take it out at a moment’s notice. It won’t be hard to summon it when needed, it is the only item he has at the moment.</p><p>After minutes which felt like hours, he finally hears footsteps begin to sound off along the wooden floor of the building that the jail cell is built under. Phil can recognize two sets of steps, which puts his mind at ease. Tubbo was alive, at the very least, and Dream willingly brought him back to Phil. That’s a relief, it’s been agony having to remain in the small cage with only Ranboo, who was decidedly not comfortable enough to receive affection similar to what he would give any of his sons.</p><p>Phil notices shadows begin to form just above the hole in the ceiling, so he steps to the bars and keeps a close eye on the entrance, gripping the iron lattice with white knuckles while Ranboo looks on from his position sitting on the cot.</p><p>Plain shoes and black jeans, <em> here comes the green bastard, </em> Phil thinks. He’ll tear Dream a new one later. For now, he just has to see Tubbo again, see <em> his son- </em></p><p>There. Dress shoes and navy blue slacks, that’s Tubbo, that’s his presidential uniform! Phil stares on with anticipation, while what feels like yet another hour passes as Tubbo slowly climbs down the ladder, rung by rung. <em> Please, just let me see him! I need to see him, I have to see my son! </em></p><p>Tubbo finally steps onto the gray stone and turns around to face Phil and Ranboo and oh <em> fuck </em> he looks terrible. His clothes are dishevelled, his face is tired, he has bloodstains on his suit, and his expression looks utterly lifeless. <em> Dream what the </em> <b> <em>fuck</em> </b> <em> did you do to him?! </em></p><p>The mask suddenly begins to speak without warning, and Phil looks over to realize he’s holding Tubbo’s sticks with a hand wearing the corresponding sock. “Your traitorous son tried to disobey me, <em> Phil.</em>” <b> <em>Stop. Calling me that,</em> </b> the father seethes only within his thoughts. “Your pitiful friends are coming to try and save you, and this one tried to <em> hide </em> the <em> truth </em> from me. I punished him accordingly. To think why my own toy would pull something like that is beyond me.” Dream’s voice hardens dangerously. “<em>I will guarantee you </em> <b> <em>all</em> </b> <em> regret what he did. </em>”</p><p>He tilts Tubbo’s sticks and he walks over to the iron door, flicks the lever, and walks in, allowing Dream to lock the metal door back up. Phil leaps into action the moment Dream stops holding the sticks, catching Tubbo and silently wrapping his arms around him, softly carrying the mostly limp body. Phil lightly shakes him into opening his eyes and looking at him, as Dream pockets the sock as well.</p><p>Phil’s unsure if Tubbo was actually awake or not when he returned to Logsteadshire, but he seems to more or less wake up in his arms. He hopes to everything that he wasn’t in that same vegetative state that Tommy’s been in ever since they first found him. However, Tubbo seems to return to the waking world just fine. Relief washes over Phil’s entire being as he brushes a few stray hairs out of the boy’s face.</p><p>“Ph-Phil? I-Is that... you?” The father nods in affirmation. Tubbo’s voice is incredibly weak, it comes out as little more than a pained whisper. “Ph- Dad... I, oh Phil, i-it was so- so awf-ful, I... I k-kill’d...” Tears quickly spring to the forefront of his tired, hazel eyes. “I saw E- Eret, he’s... he’s comin’ to... to save us, Dad... but I, I couldn’... ’m sorry, Dad...” Tubbo settles back into Phil’s arms.</p><p><em> Don’t worry Tubs, you’re safe now. Everything is going to be alright, I’ve got you. You’re safe, I’ll make sure of it. </em> He knows Tubbo can’t read his thoughts, but it makes him feel at ease to act like he can. Just being able to hold Tubbo once more causes his heart to be overcome with a huge blanket of peace and protective instincts that Phil doesn’t think he’ll ever be able to let go.</p><p>He sees nothing wrong with feeling that way. </p><p>Tubbo must have noticed that Phil hasn’t yet responded verbally. “Phil, why... you haven’t said any-” realization quickly flashes over his face, “... o-oh, right...”</p><p>He leans back and closes his eyes, letting out a dry laugh through his lips. “I almost forgot... we’re toys now...”</p><p>Hearing that drains all the color out of Phil’s face, and he tips Tubbo’s head back up to shake his head profusely. <em> No, no Tubbo you can’t think like that! Stay with me, please! You said Eret’s coming, right? Come on, don’t you want to be awake for him? </em></p><p>Dream finally decides to break up their reunion. “Alright you two, as much as I like to watch my toys hold out hope in utter futility, Tubbo’s little stunt means I need to prepare for five people to show up and ruin my entire operation.” He claps gloved hands together. “So! As long as you don’t try to resist like <em> Tubbo </em> here did, go nuts, do whatever you want, I don’t care.”</p><p>Suddenly, Tubbo’s eyes go wide and he springs to life, climbing out of Phil’s arms. “No, nonono, Dream, please!” He stumbles over to the iron bars with awful, shaking legs and a desperate tone. “Y-you, you care about me... right? Please! You- <em> a-ah! </em> ” He trips on his own weak steps, falling just before the bars. Tubbo immediately pulls himself into an upward lean by gripping the bars and keeps his attention on Dream. “I know you do, p- <em> please! </em> Please, you have to! Just say it! You, you o-own me, surely you have to care! <em> Please!! </em>”</p><p>Phil simply can’t stand it. He rushes to Tubbo and immediately pulls him up off the ground. The action almost feels like it wasn’t by choice, like his body automatically performed it, but Phil doesn’t care, he isn’t about to complain that he instinctually tries to protect Tubbo. However, his son doesn’t seem to care all that much, because as he’s standing up instead of laying on his chest on the cold floor, his eyes are still trained completely on Dream, and he wrenches out of Phil’s grip to return to his own steel grip the iron bars.</p><p>“Please. You care. I know you do. Just <em> say </em> it.”</p><p>Dream’s voice could probably kill someone. The words are poisonous to the point of practically being knives stabbing into the ears of anyone who dared listen. “Oh, Tubbo. You shouldn’t have said that.” It’s like Phil can hear his cheeks breaking from the face-shattering grin he must be wearing under that damned mask. “But... it wasn’t you. I know that. <em> That </em> was the enchantment talking. My ownership, over <em> you, </em> talking. That’s your one desire. Tommy wants to be useful, you want to be cared for.”</p><p>Tubbo seems to snap out of it for a moment, backing away from the bars slightly. “N- no, I- why did I- why did I do that, I don’t-”</p><p>Dream swiftly interrupts him. “Watch <em> this, </em> daddy dearest.” He steps up to the bars, and Phil’s body moves on its own to grasp Tubbo and keep him away from Dream, the man which his son is not-so-willingly trying to be with right now. Phil actually has to <em> restrain </em> Tubbo with his arms to prevent him from trying to stay with their captor.</p><p>Dream puts on the sweetest voice Phil’s heard him make yet, dripping with honey. What better to attract bees with? “I do care for you, Tubbo.” Tubbo instantly stops resisting his father’s embrace. “You are my toy, and you are very important to me, and I always want what’s best, for <em> all </em> of my toys. You, Tubbo, are no exception. You matter to me.”</p><p>The child president’s body relaxes entirely the moment Dream finishes his sentence. A wave of calm and peace seems to wash over the boy as he puts on a wispy smile. “Oh, Dream... thank you. I knew you felt like that, like you cared... thank you, Dream... you care, I matter... thank you...” Tubbo’s rambling devolves into nothing more than mumbles by the end of it.</p><p>Phil is absolutely <em> panicking. </em> He feels like his head is being ripped in two, one half screaming at himself to keep Tubbo safe, and the other half just screaming at Dream. <em> No, Tubbo, stop! You can’t think like that! I care about you, </em> me! <em> Not fucking Dream, the man who’s been tormenting you to hell and back for so long! Me! Please Tubbo, I love you! </em></p><p>But of course, Tubbo can’t hear him, because Phil can’t speak.</p><p>Dream’s cold calculating voice returns, almost like it never left. “Very good. Now, if you’ll excuse me,” he takes out Tubbo’s sock and pulls it on over Ranboo’s, all three now layered on the same hand. “I have to go take care of our <em> guests. </em>”</p><p>He exits the hole in the floor, this time using the fake slab to cover the hole, plunging the three playthings in total, silent darkness.</p><p>Philza closes his eyes and starts to cry.</p>
<hr/><p>How did Fundy get here?</p><p>Not how did he get to the Nether, he means how the situation he’s in got so out of control. Just yesterday his day was perfectly normal! Sure Tubbo was missing then, with him and Quackity filling in on the presidential paperwork, but it had only been one day, and it’s not like they had to know where Tubbo was at every waking moment. Fundy and Quackity were only a few years older than him and didn’t need to be supervised, so they thought it fair to give Tubbo similar leniency.</p><p>As it turns out, they were very wrong.</p><p>Somehow, all in one day, Tubbo returned along with Dream of all people, who was named a member of the New L’Manburg cabinet without telling even a soul in advance, then they just went missing for seemingly no reason. It didn’t make sense, none of it did. Now, three people were dead, one permanently, and the five were currently in the Nether on their way to confront Dream and possibly save Tubbo, if he so needed it.</p><p>Well, they’re not on their way to Logsteadshire anymore, the three remaining rescuers were currently searching for the last two, who were nowhere to be found.</p><p>Fundy calls out for his fellow L’Manburgian. “<b><em>Qua-ackity-y-y!</em> </b> ” No such luck. “Why the hell did you have to run off, man? He’s gonna get himself killed one of these days...” the fox hybrid mutters to himself. That was a rather vast understatement, Quackity’s probably going to get himself killed just from abandoning the rest of the search party. If they were indeed going to have to fight Dream when they got to Logsteadshire, like Eret seemed to believe, then Quackity is <em> fucked. </em></p><p>How could he possibly think he could take on <em> Dream </em> by himself?! The only person capable of that feat is Technoblade, and the only person who’s seen him for the past two months is Phil. Quackity is the worst fighter between him, Fundy, Eret and Puffy, and he brought Ghostbur, the only one of them who <em> can’t </em> fight.</p><p>But his stupid bullheadedness made him leave for Logsteadshire alone, all because Eret had opened up just a little bit about the first L’Manburg.</p><p>And that’s yet another thing that got completely turned on its head today,Eret betraying them all those months ago. He truly had believed that the new king organized their deaths, that he made that so-named ‘final control room’ as a means of slaughtering the revolution. They were all so angry and hurt, four members of one family, all betrayed by the one revolutionist who <em> wasn’t </em> in that family. It was a deeply personal affair from that point on.</p><p>Fundy hadn’t even attempted to believe Eret’s true intentions were anything to the contrary. By the time he felt comfortable enough to talk to him again, Schlatt had been named the new president, and it was obvious to Fundy that he was the odd one out in the family.</p><p>He was consistently ignored, at every turn. The man who was supposed to be Fundy’s father looked after Tommy more than he did the kid who was supposed to be his son! <em> Tommy! </em> Fundy did so much better than Tommy did every time! Why didn’t Wilbur pay attention to <em> him? </em> Fundy firmly believes he would’ve won that bow duel way back when. But no, it was always Tommy, the twice exiled boy.</p><p>Fundy tried to get Wilbur’s attention. Oh, how he tried. Early in his accelerated life, he learned to build, helping Eret out whenever he needed assistance constructing the walls, he practiced sword fighting and archery relentlessly, until he believed he was the best in L’Manburg.</p><p>Yet still, Wilbur never chose him. He always chose Tommy or Tubbo, or even both, over him. Brothers over sons, that’s just how it was for Fundy.</p><p>He had one last opportunity to make Wilbur proud, make him notice Fundy again, <em> anything. </em> He would form his own political party to combat Wilbur’s proposed one-party election. Choosing Niki to be his running mate, Fundy would finally show Wilbur that he had what it takes to be important in the newly independent country. Wilbur once again chose Tommy, only serving to prove to Fundy how little he mattered in Wilbur’s eyes.</p><p>But then the day of the election results came, and of the four parties he got... ten percent of the vote. It seemed that not even the citizens paid attention to Fundy.</p><p>He had enough. Instead of trying to go with Wilbur and support his goals after he had been exiled along with Tommy, (it’s <em> always </em> Tommy) he stood his ground in the newly reformed Manburg. He helped tear down the walls, he burned the flag, he even created the new flag, all in revenge against Wilbur. Fundy could finally do something that Wilbur simply couldn’t ignore.</p><p>The months went by and he thoroughly regretted having stood by Schlatt’s side. He had to put up with every single one of his self-destructive tendencies, he had died in the festival, brought down to one final life as one of Technoblade’s many casualties that day. Not one thing went right.</p><p>Eventually, he realized that the war at hand was bigger than his vendetta against Wilbur, so he joined Pogtopia, and put his family dispute aside for the time being.</p><p>But then Wilbur died, and Fundy was forced to put his family dispute aside permanently, because Ghostbur wasn’t the same. He just wasn’t.</p><p>Fundy never could look Ghostbur in the eyes, In those gray, lifeless eyes, with any of the same honesty he could while he was alive and still his father. They hardly qualified as eyes anyway, they might as well have been no more than indents on his equally gray face.</p><p>Then Tommy was exiled, and maybe Fundy could be able to mend relationships with his father in his new form. But, no. Ghostbur went with Tommy to what they apparently named Logsteadshire. Even in death, he <em> still </em> chose Tommy over Fundy, the two in exile for the second time.</p><p>He gave up trying at that point.</p><p>Which was what made it so jarring when Eret talked to him directly, a few minutes ago. Sure there was nobody else present from the original L’Manburg, but he still <em> listened </em> to Fundy instead of waking him off like Wilbur did as the general of the revolution. He apologized, he mended relationships, he <em> cared. </em></p><p>Fundy just wasn’t used to it. He was entirely resigned to being the tag-along, the one that nobody cared about, the guy that just followed in the back of the line and didn’t talk to anyone, didn’t get in anyone else’s business. That’s why he lashed out at Eret then, accusing him of still plotting everything behind their backs, because he was simply confused. Call it a coping mechanism.</p><p>Fundy’s been calling and searching for Quackity for a while now, with zero luck. They’re never going to find him, surely he’s long gone, probably already in Logsteadshire by now with Ghostbur. They need to stop looking for him and start looking for the Nether portal instead, their eventual destination.</p>
<hr/><p>“<em>Dream! </em> Where are you, buddy? I just wanna talk to you, come on out!” Quackity shouts while he brandishes an unenchanted netherite sword.</p><p>Look, he knows that he probably shouldn’t try to fight Dream on his own, but he was getting so annoyed in the Nether, having to stop every five seconds to pick out the next path or just to have a conversation. Why didn’t everyone else understand how urgent this was? If they didn’t want to move at the same pace as Quackity wished they would, that’s fine. It’s why he simply walked away, because he was tired of not being able to take his life into his own hands, of people telling him what he can and can’t do.</p><p>He decided to finally take some control for himself, for once. To be fair, it did feel rather exhilarating.</p><p>He steps into the weird walled off area with the blade tip out in front of him, ready to strike at whatever moves. He sees a small building with a smokestack on top, and with his curiosity getting the better of him, Quackity steps inside.</p><p>Empty. Of course it is.</p><p>“Dream! Stop hiding like the coward you are and <em> fight me! </em>” He shouts again, beckoning the green man to reveal himself.</p><p>He hears a voice. “You’d like that, wouldn’t you?” It’s sly, that has to be Dream, he’s sure of it! Sounds like it’s coming from outside. Quackity rushes out the door of the building, to find nobody standing outside.</p><p>Before he can react to the absence of Dream, the man in question speaks again. “Where’s your friends, Quackity? I saw you with four other people, but now you’re all alone, aww...” it’s like he’s comforting a fucking baby, “What happened to your friends, Quackity?”</p><p>Where was his voice <em> coming </em> from? Must have gotten behind him somehow, he’ll catch Dream by surprise. Quackity responds, just to keep Dream busy. “I don’t need them, I can take you on... <em> myself! </em>” On the last word, he swings his body around 180 degrees and slashes at the area where he can only imagine Dream has to be standing.</p><p>His blade only puts a tear in a blue canvas tent, Dream is still nowhere to be found.</p><p>
  <em> What the fuck? </em>
</p><p>Okay, maybe it was a mistake to come here without any backup. He begins to back away towards the entrance of the log wall, <em> just grab Ghostbur and get back to the Nether, warn everyone, then regroup. </em> Dream was somehow so cunning that he was unarmed at the moment and Quackity <em> still </em> can’t hit him, the actual fight would be over within seconds.</p><p>He’s about to reach the entrance when he hears Dream again, just taunting Quackity now. “Can’t hit what isn’t there!~” He says with a singsong tone. Oh, Quackity has had it up to here with Dream’s shit.</p><p>“<b><em>DREAM!</em> </b> <em> I thought I </em> <b> <em>said</em> </b> <em> come out! </em>” He yells at nothing and everything.</p><p>The masked man sounds thoroughly unfazed. “You should know, Quackity, I love to play with my food, and you are no exception.” His voice is low and plotting now.</p><p>“What the <em> fuck </em> does that me-”</p><p>Quackity gets cut off by a <b> <em>very</em> </b> forceful slam squarely on the back of his head with some sort of blunt weapon. He falls to the ground in a daze, trying to will his body to turn around onto its back and face his attacker.</p><p>Eventually, he rolls over and sees that white porcelain mask looking down at him as his vision starts to darken around the edges.</p><p>“Hello Quackity, and good-night,” is all he hears before the whole world goes black.</p>
<hr/><p>where Dream? </p><p>gone long  tme. Toy Dream want, Toy hear weird !</p><p>Hear sound, , Hear yelling.  stop yell, headhurt. hurt!</p><p>It hear voice,funny sound funy voice scared but funny,  sounds</p><p>say Badn ame, no. Say Good name! “name  Toy, ”</p><p>sound Go bye, no voice, wantd help.</p><p>Stuf happen, Toy think it wierd.  wantDream, he no weird. Dream make Sens</p><p>hungrey</p><p>nO food  thnik hard</p><p>Dream feed food Toy .eat ,no fod now</p><p>heLp plees</p><p>New’Feel?  Go In body ; hello</p><p>  in voice head. Hurt! hurt head</p><p class="glatt">Hey there, big guy.<br/>
Let’s see what we’re working with, huh?<br/>
...<br/>
Tommy. Where the fuck are your thoughts.</p><p>wha</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>c+1<br/>that's a tf2 reference y'know</p><p>Welcome everyone! To chapter 16, the big one. Might even be <i>the</i> biggest one. It's certainly the biggest one by word count, this thing is a massive 8.7k words, and for good reason. Now, I know a good number of you have been starved by the lack of updates to this fic, I mean it's been fuckin two and a half weeks of nothing. So I made sure to give all of you an extra long and hopefully well-written chapter.</p><p>Because... I recently realized how low my motivation is for writing basically only this fic ever. I mean this took two and a half weeks when I actually wrote the thing in like 4 days. So, I've decided to put this on a little bit of a hiatus, so I can start up some other fics and AU ideas. (it'll still be dream smp though lmao i have zero other fandoms) I'd like to have a bit more variety in writing, so I can write something else if the motiviation gets too low for any one fic. I'll put a list of rough ideas here, though.</p><p>- TF2 au: I just fucking love tf2 and its characters are incredible and their interactions are so precious and I have memory banks for pretty much every voiceline in the game and I will use them as much as I can. Honestly this AU is really better suited for art rather than writing but I can't draw so<br/>- Runescape au: fantasy except its specifically runescape's version of fantasy. It's entirely self-indulgent, because I have played runescape a good amount and I really loved the lore of the game, I would read practically every NPC dialogue I could. Basically everyone's favorite blockmen find each other through happenstance and become bffs: but there's also wizards n shit<br/>- FTL au: i'll be honest i really tried making a full-fledged au out of this but i could only think of a decent introduction to it, so i might make it a oneshot, the aliens in the game just don't mesh with dream smp characters.<br/>- LISA: The Painful au: This one I have some <i>very</i> good ideas for. On the other hand, the only reason I decided to come up with this for an au is because I wanted a challenge: make the characters from the most child-friendly game make sense in the least child-friendly game I've ever played. Seriously, you guys have no idea how fucked up the people are in Olathe. I also hit a snag with this one, because its an rpg game, the dsmp guys would be party members, but at the end of the game... you kinda... mercilessly slaughter your own party members... oops?</p><p>Extras (anything not just "put dsmp in ____ game"):<br/>- another dream smp canon divergence: holy SHIT i have such good ideas for this thing, you will absolutely see this one happen. I don't want to tell you how the story goes, because I want the impact to be the best it can be, but it <b>heavily</b> involves the egg.<br/>- a little something for the writer's block au *wink*<br/>- this will probably never see the light of day but I do have a very very old idea for an undertale canon divergence (nope doesn't even involve dsmp at all) that I thought up over five years ago now. I realized somewhere along the way that a lot of the themes are just broken toys all over again.<br/>- more reclaimed toys (ranges from tragic to incredibly more angsty than it ever needed to be)</p><p>back to notes about this chapter<br/>So that's why I've put this on hiatus. General loss of motivation and coming up with ideas for new fics and such, plus the story is beginning to get very complicated and more difficult to keep track of. But don't worry! I'm nowhere near done with broken toys. I mean, this chapter isn't even the climax yet! There's one character I've yet to properly introduce, mostly because he only returned to the smp in this very chapter. So, you'll have to live with this cliffhanger for a little while longer. whoops!</p><p>This chapter started off a little shaky for me, like a good number of them do, but it really picked up after that, which a good number of them also do. I feel like I have trouble picking what Dream's motivation of the week is, if he just wants to have fun and fuck around with his toys or actually wants to move forward with his plans of world domination.</p><p>I hope you love the POV changes, I went all-out with this one. It isn't content warning-worthy like the last few have been, but it absolutely sets up many characters feelings and motivations. And isn't that what this whole fic about? How the characters feel? It even presents itself physically sometimes. Entire characters will revolve around how they feel at any given moment, it's honestly insane how much of a difference it makes.</p><p>I'm running out of characters so I hope you liked this final chapter! (for now) I always appreciate comments and things like that! Discuss who you think the new character is. (i might delete the comment if you get it right to avoid spoilers) The next chapter whenever I write it will be the prophesized techno chapter.</p><p>#brokentoysfanart or dm me @higuy258</p>
        </blockquote><div class="children module" id="children">
  <b class="heading">Works inspired by this one:</b>
  <ul>
    <li>
        <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/29842842">The following toys are not appropriate for children</a> by <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/ShadowDash6603/pseuds/ShadowDash6603">ShadowDash6603</a>
    </li>
  </ul>
</div></div></div>
</body>
</html>